


To Bloom

by mackallackattack



Series: Misfit Garden [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Art, Bat Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, Blood and Wine (The Witcher 3 DLC), F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Human/Vampire Relationship, Humor, Interspecies Romance, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Multi, NSFW Art, POV Monster, Romance, Toussaint (The Witcher), Unplanned Pregnancy, Vampire Sex, Witcher Contracts, dad dettlaff, dadlaff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 61
Words: 216,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23096944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mackallackattack/pseuds/mackallackattack
Summary: Your name is Maina. You are from the Redanian countryside. Here you learned that you can communicate with animals by way of sensing their raw emotions. That's all you know of your powers. Still, it was enough to catch the attention of one Yennefer of Vengerberg, who, fearing that witch hunters or (even worse yet) the Lodge might have their way with you, sent you to Corvo Bianco in Toussaint to live with a very single Geralt until further command. Here, you meet Dettlaff....“Oh, Maina,” Dettlaff’s voice was colored by something recognizable. It was the sound of someone who knew what you were asking. Of someone who truly knew what it was you were asking. Who had experienced the reason behind your own concern, and who had experienced it for a great many years longer than you had. A long nail from his thumb brushed your chin before the soft pads of that finger, and he kissed you lightly on the mouth, lingering there for a moment. His deep voice was on your lips when he said, “you are my family, now. Forever, my darling.”
Relationships: Dettlaff van der Eretein/Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, Dettlaff van der Eretein/Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy/Original Female Character(s), Dettlaff van der Eretein/Original Female Character(s), Dettlaff van der Eretein/Reader, Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzief-Godefroy/Reader, Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy/Original Female Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Misfit Garden [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800742
Comments: 836
Kudos: 250





	1. Pique

**Author's Note:**

> This an Original Female Character x Dettlaff van der Eretein romance but will be written largely as second person narrative so I am including an 'x reader' tag. It's a romance fic at the source. Most of the action, however much there actually is, will be a means to fuel the romantic theme, probably. I'm going to make Geralt a decently sized character because, after spending many in-game hours playing him, feels easy. I'm writing this cause our man (vampire) Dettlaff needs more fan fics.
> 
> Some chapters will have og digital pieces. Started this at Chapter 5. Might add one or two for the chapters before that, eventually! Hopefully the action pieces are cool :D.
> 
> Quick thanks to everyone who has commented and supported this thing. Y’all have done so much to help me! Big shout out to user silenceisaweapon for countless and incredibly helpful reviews!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The illustration I included actually was made for a different chapter, so you'll see it again. :)

~

It was an interesting adjustment. A phase, you’d like to call it. Staying in the estate of an old man who did not look so old, sent there by a young sorceress who you recently found out was _also_ very old. A phase. As the sun kissed the hills on the horizon, you absently appraised the grapes that would be turned into wine you didn’t drink and you fiddled your thumbs. 

Corvo Bianco was beautiful. _Toussaint_ was beautiful, and although you didn’t particularly _miss_ home (if you could call it that), you had an uneasy feeling that you were not free here. Sure, technically you could leave Geralt and his creaky home, beautiful as it was, but what would happen, then? Would the beautiful one they call Yennefer just portal to you and bring you back here to sit on your ass for a few more months? 

You weren’t sure. So, here you sat, on the hillside of Corvo Bianco gazing at lines of sour grapes in the last light of day. The mumbling of the vineyard's workers slowly quieting as they dissipated. 

Out of the peaceful sounds of nature, though, crept nearing footsteps. 

“Chatting with animals, again?” Geralt asked as he sat down beside you. Following his scent, which was not incredible. 

You made a show of drawing in breath and acting repulsed, “well I suppose _now_ I am,” you chided. Immediately after you said it, though, you became nervous that he wouldn’t find it funny. As relatable as Geralt was, and as kind as he had been since your arriving at Corvo Bianco late last summer, something about his roughness made you weary of upsetting him. 

Luckily, however, he barked out a laugh and laid back onto the grass, both his hands cupping his head in a sign of relaxation. 

“Any news from Yen?” you asked, readjusting yourself so you could rest your arms on your knees. Throwing a glance over your shoulder, you saw him open his eyes momentarily, before squinting at the distance and closing them again. 

A beat. 

“No,” he replied, almost reluctantly. “However, I did have a contract with a painter today who was _very_ enthusiastic about a Griffin giving him shit...maybe you could go have a chat with the Griffin about it.” He peered at you sideways with one eye. 

“Yeah, that’s not how it works,” you rolled your eyes. You almost laughed, you would have laughed, if you didn’t feel so stranded at the moment. Stranded in one of the most beautiful places you had ever been, with a ridiculously forgiving host who became increasingly worried that you would not recover from whatever was binding you mentally. 

Geralt must have picked up on your consternation, because at that moment he rose and extended you a hand. 

“Oh, alright,” you smiled. As shitty as his jokes were and irreverent his attitude _appeared_ , he seemed to always know what was best, and if he didn’t, he was honest about it. You took his hand and, following his footfalls in the tall grass, he led you to his stable. 

“Here,” he motioned to the open air building, “now maybe you won’t feel so isolated.” He shifted comfortably before adding, “you look well enough for it, _finally_.” That was all he said before waltzing out into the darkness, unaided by light. You looked into the stable and, standing in the building, untied, was a large black horse. It was sleek and slender. Maybe even a little tall for you, not that you weren’t a little tall yourself. It felt happy, and you glowed in that emotion.

From outside came the whistle you knew to be Geralt’s call to Roach, and you smiled. 

_

The road was perfectly _un_ dusty as the last visible spire of Beauclair’s palace vanished behind the first buildings of the city and the _thuds_ of hooves against dirt became the many _clops_ of hooves against cobblestone. Drifting from different shops, you realized that every time you passed an adjacent street, your eyes would stare in the direction of the palace again, hoping to steal another glance without outing yourself as a newcomer. You weren’t entirely sure how friendly Beauclair was to foreigners, and although at this point in time you didn’t consider yourself a tourist, you certainly weren’t a wizened denizen of cities, either. 

That morning you almost hadn’t packed along a map of the city, just the way Geralt grinned at you made you feel stupid for needing one, so you nearly and decidedly did the stupid thing of leaving it behind. Thankfully, you regained your nerve and told him to _fuck off_ , which he thought was _hilarious_. That man knew how to annoy someone when he wanted. You checked that map, now, surreptitiously as you could, before stuffing it back into your bag.

You sighed as you decided to stop on one of the downslopes to tie up Mers, the name you’d come to call the horse Geralt gifted you, and step into a brightly colored shoppe with a leaf on its sign. 

After an hour or so trying to find the right root substitute for preventing migraines you managed to nearly contract a migraine of your own, had given up, and came back outside. The sun hit you like a brick as you sauntered defeatedly to Mers and you realized that you hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. 

_God, it’s hot out today,_ you thought. You felt faint. _You are going to get that map out and find the market square to get food asap_ . 

Shuffling herbs into Mers’ saddlebags you turned around too quickly and lost your footing, the sun shining bright made your vision go starry. Wobbling more, you closed your eyes and braced for impact _and -_

You didn’t hit the ground. Your body relaxed a little from the tenseness it gained a second ago, completely prepared to fall flat on it’s ass. The smell of cedarwood, and something sharper that you couldn’t quite identify filled your lungs as you quickly inhaled. You were taken aback; it was intoxicating. 

Slowly, you opened one of your eyes and saw, _very_ close to you, the large jaw of a man with black hair, who was currently bringing you back to your feet. Setting you down on them cautiously, as if he wasn’t quite sure you could stand on your own at this moment.

Now that you _were_ standing on your own, it seemed it was his turn to straighten himself. He was _tall_ , and broad at the shoulders, though that could have been accentuated by his _fantastic_ black leather frock coat. You’d need to ask him where he got that. His black hair actually had bits of grey in it, and became curly around his ears. His eyes were such a light icy blue you almost felt a chill... _almost…_

...You snapped back. You’d been looking _far_ too long. In fact, you were _staring_. He was staring back at you, though. 

You blinked. 

Actually, he was _glaring_ at you. The faintest suggestion of a scowl began to appear on his face and he turned on his heels, walking away. 

You stared after him in a moment of pure confusion before you could recover. 

“Wait!” You yelled as you broke out in a trot after him, his frock gently swaying in his wide gait. It took longer than you expected to catch up to him and he showed no signs of slowing. You were both now halfway into the next block and advancing. He was still staring ahead, with his perfect curls bouncing ever so slightly and his jaw all clenched, still.

“Hey!” Finally you made the jump out in front of him and nearly fell over his protruding leg in the process. He grabbed your arm and stabilized you without a glance. Then, he was simply walking again. 

This time, you let him go. You realized you were now in the market square, right where you had wanted to be, and the smell of food called more important things to mind as you watched the last of his black hair and his gently swaying black frock disappear into the crowd.

  
You were _really_ going to need to ask him where he got that coat.


	2. A Hand Given

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The barber-surgeon of Toussaint pays you a visit at Corvo Bianco to request a favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ya'll, so, I've written a LOT already and am going to publish a few chapters post haste because one thing that really bums me out is seeing a new fan fic that I'm excited about and only having the teensiest morsel to bite off from it. 
> 
> I should note that this romance is not a slow burner in terms of being physical sexually. Dettlaff is a physical character and physical intimacy will happen early on and more than a few times. The slow burn is in his feelings towards you and how he expresses that. Maina's/Yours and Geralt's relationship will become a little more interesting, too. Feel free to leave feedback! 
> 
> There will be some CW coming up so be sure to check the beginning notes! I'll always try to post the most accurate CWs in the notes of the chapter if there are any. If I miss any PLEASE inform me.

You rolled over in your bed in the loft of Corvo Bianco. You were just going to call it your loft and drop the pretense that it was anything but.You’d been stuck here awaiting news from Yen for nearly seven months now. A sinking realization that you were probably the least of her priorities crept in. You sighed a long, deep sigh and rolled over again onto your stomach. From outside the window the spring sunshine was dancing on the creek. Inside the sunshine was flowing into your room and contrasted the shadowy corners. Everything seemed content. Except one emotion that didn’t quite fit…

You hadn’t used your ability to feel the emotions of, well, of what Yen referred to as “lesser beings” - in some months now. It was still there, though - in the back of your mind, on the tips of your fingers, tingling at the base of your feet, even, but you hadn’t called it into your immediate attention in what was becoming a very long time. You didn’t always love it, but, laying there on the bed now, with the nature outside looking serene, you didn’t want to _lose_ it, either.

You closed your eyes and honed in on it...to the one emotion that didn’t fit...the small vibration that caused this dissonance…

Found it.

 _Ugh._ You rolled over onto your back and threw your blankets off of you. _Well, I certainly didn’t_ lose _it._

Mers’ agitation from being kept in the stable and not out to pasture was palpable from your _bed_ . You were certain it was Mers’ feelings you were picking up on - growth was everywhere else. Peace was everywhere else. Yet this turbulence was particularly horse-y. You didn’t know how else to describe it. And not just horse-y, either...it was particularly _Mers-y._ It was something that was just obvious. You were tempted to ignore it, since you could, but it was an itch that needed to be scratched when it went unchecked. It was difficult to do. Feeling the emotions of animals wasn’t your favorite thing, and you hoped that Yen could, eventually, help you control that. Which annoyed you, because it reminded you that you were going to have to _stick around_ if you wanted help with that. 

The dissonance grew firmer around you. _Right._

Skipping down the stairs and out the front door to Corvo Bianco you stopped momentarily to take in the beauty of Toussaint’s countryside...it almost made you feel guilty about sleeping in so late. _Almost._ You’d taken to being quite a help around the herb garden in the past month. So much so that you didn’t really feel bad for anything at the moment - which was exactly what you had been wanting from the task. Slowly, you would be back on your feet. Whatever happened back in Redania, wasn’t you. 

Mers’ tail flickered all the way to the field’s fence and he nudged at you begrudgingly. Despite what he put on, though, you could feel that he was overwhelmingly happy to see you. You felt guilty about that, and resolved to take more trips around Toussaint. Maybe to the wineries? It would be weird to go to the wineries and not drink the wine, right? Wasn’t really the greatest to have a severe aversion to wine and be in the middle of Toussaint. Well, in all honesty, it was more an aversion to anything alcoholic. You tried explaining _that_ to one of the natives when you first arrived and it was as fruitless as it was frustrating. 

You patted Mers on the arse - barely needing the encouragement, he immediately broke into a canter once in the enclosure. It was settled. You’d take him for rides every day - even if _you_ didn’t have a destination. And who knows? Maybe you’d find something intriguing along the way. It was gorgeous out and the springtime fluorescence was nearly tangible. It had been weeks since your first trip to Beauclair.

...Your first trip to Beauclair. 

The helpful man with the dark hair hadn’t escaped your mind. On the contrary, the thought of him was becoming somewhat of a nuisance. For some unknown reason, you still wanted to thank him. You needed to thank him. His eyes, his...scent. You couldn’t forget them. And in the weeks that had passed you started to miss-remember feeling _his_ emotion. _Something_ from him. You also began having the _most_ particular dreams that you were certain had something to do with him. 

You weren’t sure, and it was really starting to piss you off. That, and Geralt had been gone coming up on a week. Not that you missed him, because you didn’t, but maybe you did a little, and _that_ notion pissed you off even _more._ He’d taken to bringing you along with him on non-life-threatening witcher contracts, though it was difficult to ever really be able to tell _which_ ones were going to be non-life threatening. For instance, he had brought you along to look for someone’s lost pet dog because you would be able to, well, er, ‘feel’ it out. Only, how the hell does a missing dog _feel?_ Happy? Sad? Which emotion were you supposed to be tracking? Does it even know that it’s _missing_? You didn’t find it, so it probably was eaten. You found out the hard way that it was probably eaten by a slyzard. Specifically, the slyzard that attacked the two of you while tracking he damn dog. There was a part of you that felt like he just wanted to spend time with a person instead of a monster, for a change. 

Along with requesting your unhelpful presence on the more boring witcher contracts, Geralt was also becoming very keen on _physically_ being next to you and he _smelled horrible_ most of the time. In fact you were certain that he only sat next to you with his back up against your shoulder _when_ he smelt like the inside of a Shaelmaar. For a one hundred and whatever year old, sometimes it felt like he had the emotional capacity of a wet sock. 

...and you missed it, and _that_ pissed you off. Kind of. 

You sighed as you once again had to drive the picture of the handsome man with dark hair and starless jacket out of your mind. That jacket was getting to you, too. 

After carrying a bit of hay over to the pasture _just in case,_ you ambled, quite sweatily now, back up the hill to Corvo Bianco. It must have rained the night before because it was getting rather slippery, and not once, but _twice_ you had fallen over. That was fine and all, you weren’t worried about getting your clothes dirty - they were your gardening clothes, but you _slid_ ten to fifteen feet every time you did it.

The entire climbing ordeal had had you so preoccupied that it wasn’t until you nearly reached the top of the hill that you saw an unfamiliar figure at the front door of the house. 

“Hello!” You called out to the man, “I’ll be there momentarily!” But it wasn’t much use, because as soon as you finished your sentence you fell again. Getting some footing, you wiped your face of mud just as a balding head popped up from the crest of the hill. The man smiled at you, and you could see that he was trying his best not to chuckle.

“Oh, dear,” he started, staring down at the mudslide beneath you, “now _that_ _is_ quite a predicament.” He extended a hand and hoisted you up with surprising ease, given his apparent age. But then again, who looked their age around here? You weren’t even sure if people _could_ look an age after all the exposure to outliers you were getting lately. 

“Thanks,” you replied gratefully, and sincerely. “It was, uh,” you looked down at your goopy, earth-laden hands, “slippery”. At that moment you locked eyes, and you could see a smile creeping at the corners of his mouth in your peripheral, and before you knew it, you both were laughing. 

“I’m Maina,” you offered shortly afterwards.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said smiling. The two of you started towards Corvo. “ _I_ am Emiel Regis Godefroy, for all intents and purposes.” He took another look at you before asking, “would you like to clean up? I’m afraid I might take a moment of your time.”

The look you gave him must have been one of incredulity, because he shortly followed with “fair enough.”

He motioned to the bench next to the front door for you to sit.

“Geralt needs my assistance for a time, but I too, need yours,” he paused to assess your expression, “at least for a time.”

You stared back. “For a time? My _assistance_?” 

This puzzled you, as you were not really sure what in the world _you_ could do to help him out? It felt suspect, somehow. The last thing on your wish list was to fall into some trap and have to go and get rescued and protected _again...especially_ since the first round of rescue-and-protect-Maina hadn’t even been resolved! You wanted to tell him that he just simply could not be trusted, but you knew who this man was. Geralt had spoken to you about him, and there was even a damned portrait of him in the cellar, though it was merely a sketch. Still, it couldn’t be mistaken, this was indeed the face of the benevolent medic that Geralt had spoken so highly of oftimes before. 

Wait. He’s a _medic!?_

“Is he hurt?” Your heartbeat began to quicken its pace. Your chest was moving up and down...were you still breathing? It didn’t feel like it.

“No.” Regis replied almost instantly, and a hand went to the back of your shoulder in an immediate condolence. “Well, not seriously, anyway. He just needs a helping hand.”

“From a medic?” You asked pessimistically. 

Now it was his turn to look at you skeptically. No, not skeptically...he was amused. Impressed? No, amused.

“Yes,” he replied, thoughtfully. “Though I must admit that I have acquired a great _many_ skill sets in my years that could prove helpful, should they be needed.”

You nodded, slowly, and not entirely sure if he had just given you too much, or too little information. If truth be told, it felt more like he hadn’t given you any at all. 

“Can you pack a few essentials?” 

“ _What!?”_ you asked. “Now? Already? What do you even need my help with? _My_ help?”

He smiled sympathetically, “Well, time _is_ of the essence.” His forehead wrinkled like paper mache momentarily as he considered you once more, “but, I suppose we can start tomorrow.” 

Regis’ mouth was tugging at a smile, “I believe another night might be good for Geralt, as it were,” then looked back to you, “I’ll write you directions. It should be helpful for you to have your horse along. Essentially, we will be making use of your communication skills with the wildlife.”

With that, Regis left you alone to pack and bathe.

-

In the night you dreamt you were being rescued from a clash of man and beast, before magnificent aragonite wings built a lulling tune and brought you to back bed. 

-

The next morning with your belongings together, slung across Mers, you set off towards the location Regis had indicated on the map. His handwriting was absolutely _awful_ , you noticed. You weren’t certain there was any consistency to it at all. Not to mention his doodle indicating the city of Beauclair - a primitive rendering of the palace itself. You chuckled to yourself about that. 

All in all it took a total of three hours to get from Corvo Bianco to the other side of Beauclair and you resolved to never go through the docks again. You arrived at the small woods the map indicated, but something was off.

It was a fucking _graveyard_. 

“This can’t be right…” you slowed Mers, who was getting agitated and you feel it, then suddenly he kicked back. “Whoa, Mers!” You cooed, “it’s okay, you’ll be okay.”

Brushing strands of your red hair from your face, which was now just long enough to tuck your ears, you leapt down off of him and pat him on the neck. Taking out the map you led him up to the face of an edifice sticking from the ground. This couldn’t be right. I mean, _who_ in their right mind would choose to stay in a graveyard? 

Then you saw it, in small chicken scratch was the direction “Inside Crow Building”. 

_Well that’s helpful._ You thought. _Crow building? Like an aviary? How in the...Oh._

Directly in front of you, on the face of the building was a door with the depiction of a large black bird.

You knocked on the door and waited, but no answer came, so you checked the dagger you kept hidden inside your jacket, let yourself in and said goodbye to the mid afternoon sun. _Lord help me._

Inside the building it was musty and stale smelling, and cold. On either side of the hallway you were standing in was one door, but there was a light coming from the opening at the end of the hall, and the sound of voices, so you continued on in that direction.

You realized that it was the sound of Regis’ voice and...someone else’s. It was deep and rumbling, almost frightening. When you reached the edge of the room you stood in the dark of the hall for a moment, curious as to whom this voice belonged and what it had to say uninterrupted…

“We cannot trust her,” came the voice. “She is human.” 

Now _that_ was an interesting discovery. 

“My friend, please.” Regis’ voice replied.

You peeked your face ever so slightly into the doorway and saw that the rumbly low voice belonged to _him._ The man you had bumped into in Beauclair, or more, owed a thank you to. Who was he talking about? _You?_ Untrustworthy? _Psssh_. And human? You wondered...are they witchers, too? They didn’t look it. You’d lost yourself in thought momentarily when you heard your name.

“...we can trust Miss Maina, Dettlaff. Her abilities should be incredibly helpful and she has a kind soul. She is unique for her kind, if a bit guarded. Besides, if Geralt trusts her, _I_ trust her.” The sound of his voice had a finality to it that the younger man conceded to, but not without a low huff. No, more of a grumble.

 _Untrustworthy. Who is he to say?!_ You thought. _Human? So what?! My entire life is hearing the feelings of animals...can’t say that I’ve had the normal human experience. Witchers...if_ that’s _what they are...are_ so _elitist. I might even become a sorceress someday, for chrissakes!_ You felt determined to prove him wrong. Only, you weren’t sure if it was because you were offended. In all honesty, you hadn’t been able to get the man out of your head since he held you in his arms that day and brought you to your feet. You felt connected. 

Suddenly, two light grey eyes were staring directly at you.

You pulled your head back. _Stupid, stupid._ Fingering at the hem of your jacket, you closed your eyes, took a deep breath, knocked twice and…

“Hi, Regis!” You smiled. _I’ll show you trustworthy._ “Sorry I’m late, I didn’t realize that Beauclair could have such crazy traffic and then...well, I didn’t realize you were staying in a cemetery so I spent some time outside with Mers, who clearly doesn’t like it here.”

Both the men shifted uncomfortably at the mention of your horse’s discomfort, but Regis recovered quickly by briskly walking over to you. 

“It is good to see you, too, Miss Maina,” he said, a sincerity to his voice that you yourself were coming to treasure. Something about him made you feel at ease - like you didn’t have to worry about ulterior motives. It couldn’t hurt that you did just hear him defend you against the words of…

“And this is our strapping young Dettlaff,” he made a gesture towards the tall, dark haired man who was now standing as stiff as you’d ever seen a person. Such tension...you could see the rigid form of his body clearly under his black jacket, even. It was intimidating. 

...it was _impressive_.

 _Stop that, Maina._ You flushed, deeply, partly because of your own thoughts, partly because you’d taken a moment longer than you had intended to take him in and he was staring at you as if you had a dagger to his throat. As casually as you could, you closed the small distance between you and the imposing masculine figure. 

“Hi, I’m Maina,” you said, determinedly as you could. The man sighed deeply, gutturally. You added, with a warm smile, “it’s nice to _officially_ meet you.”

At that, Regis cocked his head at the two of you. The younger man glanced at something on the desk. 

“He helped me in Beauclair, you see.” You looked back at one they call Dettlaff, “It was very kind, but I never got a chance to thank you.” 

The look on Dettlaff’s face was livid _._ You were taken aback at how menacing it was. You didn’t know someone could look that ferocious...that feral. Only it wasn’t _you_ he was staring daggers into, it was Regis. 

“Don’t think I do not know what you are doing,” he snarled, “old _friend._ ”

And with that, Dettlaff van der Eretein was at the desk in one stride, swiped what looked to be a leather bound book from the top of it, and was out the door of the cellar.

You stared after him, dumbfounded, before turning your gaze to Regis. 

“What do you think, Maina?” he almost _laughed_ \- the biggest smile appearing on his face. “I’d say that went rather well indeed.”

  
  


Regis had taken time to show you to what would be your quarters for the next few weeks. He had brewed you some herbal tea and told you what he had planned for dinner. He was, in all honesty, the perfect host. Except for that, of course, he was hosting you in his _Graveyard._

After dinner you met him in the room serving as library and laboratory, it seemed. He explained to you that Geralt had indeed run into some trouble and was jailed, however wrongfully, in a town not far north of Beauclair. Confused as to how you were going to help, and how serious the situation was, Regis was comforting. He told you that this is certainly not the first time Geralt has been in a pickle like this one, and what we needed to do to help him was simple.

“There is a woman who has framed him, so all we need to do is find her to prove his innocence.” He looked at you, “finding her is where _your_ help comes in.” 

You looked at him in puzzlement. 

“The woman is a _striga_ , we believe. It would explain the killings around the area, the victims of which have largely been humans and lower vampires.” 

Vampires...you shuddered. 

“If what Geralt has told me about you is correct,” continued Regis, “then by my calculations you should have no problem sensing the energies given off by monsters as well as other animals.”

You contemplated this. It was an interesting idea. You were going to have to give Geralt more credit from now on...you had been hiding the fact that you could faintly feel the emotions of monsters, or animals obviously not from the same place as humans when the conjunction of the spheres happened. It’s not that you didn’t trust Geralt...you just didn’t want him to ask you to go on the types of contracts that had him smelling so bad. You smiled at the fact that he had figured you out, then sighed that he was in a cell. Well, then you smiled _because_ he was in a cell.

“How will I know which emotion is Striggan, though?” you asked. “I’ve never met one, and I do not know what their energies feel like. It can be difficult to search for something that you do not know.” 

With this, Regis smiled sadly.

“I am afraid that feeling the energy should be no problem, as a Striga feels only the most absolute dread.” 

The next step, he had informed you, was to help you in identifying more a wider variety of monsters to see how reliable your abilities were. Then and only when you were able to feel those energies from a safe enough distance, which you already thought you could _do_ , you, Dettlaff and he would set off and search around the area of the killings, locate the Striga and lift the curse. 

“But, how does one lift a Striga curse?” You asked.

“I wouldn’t worry yourself with that, Maina,” he replied, “I doubt very much you will have to be present for the ordeal at all.” 

You sighed, there was something else bothering you. 

“Regis, about Dettlaff…” you began. At the sound of his friend’s name, the older man rested his weight on the edge of the desk. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“Ah, yes, Dettlaff,” he smiled apologetically at you. You didn’t like to admit when something hurt you...and you didn’t want to let on that the younger man’s behavior had stung, a bit. You felt a bit crazy, because it was beginning to feel like you had conjured up some fake connection with him...the vivid dreams that began after your first encounter with him didn’t _feel_ like a coincidence. It felt like _him_. You were embarrassed by that thought, too. 

You flushed, and Regis noticed. 

“Maina, I would not worry about Dettlaff, either. He is...difficult to get to know,” he pursed his lips in thought momentarily before donning an expression you could not quite place. “But, I have full confidence that he will come around.”

“Why does he want to help Geralt? Are they friends, too?” You pushed. So many unanswered questions about the mysterious man. Not to mention you wanted to know what he meant about you being _human_. 

“Friends?” Regis barked out a laugh, “Oh, no, my dear. I actually am under the impression that they distinctly dislike each other.” 

This answer did not leave you feeling nearly as confident as Regis about Dettlaff being sure to come to liking you. Even tolerating you seemed like a stretch. _He doesn’t like Geralt?_

“Why doesn’t he like Geralt?” you blurted out before thinking, then scrunched up your face when a barrage of Geralt-related memories came flooding to you, “you know what, never mind. That one I can understand.” 

That remark earned you a fully fledged laugh from Regis. 

He then showed you to your room, which you were happy to see actually featured a small window carved into the side of the hill. He had built a fire in it some time before - it was already warm and the fire looked at its peak maturation. Your heart swelled. It seemed that you were relying heavily on the kindness of others since you had arrived in Toussaint.

“Thank you, Regis, I,” you began, but stopped as you felt your voice begin to tremble, and tears forming in the corner of your eyes. You had acted so indifferent for so long to stop yourself from showing any emotion...since...since...you pushed the thought from your mind. _I will not cry in front of Regis._

But it was becoming too late, and Regis was walking towards you, and firmly planted a hand on your shoulder. You hugged him.

He truly was a nice man. 

“You will be just fine, dear Maina.” his voice came from somewhere over your head. Then, ending the hug and placing both of his hands on the sides of your arms, his face tilted down towards you, your eyes met. “For now, rest.” He then walked to the door. 

Wiping your face of tears and feeling a little foolish you went to sit on the bed, but then you remembered something...you didn’t mean to pry, but--

“Regis,” you called, and halfway through the door he stopped, not facing you. “I didn’t know that you and Dettlaff were…” no, not that. Now you were _assuming_. “What I mean is, are you and Dettlaff witchers?”

Your eyes could have been deceiving you, but you thought you saw the figure in the doorway tense completely. Then, Regis turned his head back to observe you for a moment. 

Finally he replied, “No, we are not witchers.”

And then you were alone in your room with window and fire, wondering what Dettlaff had meant when he implied Regis was up to something.

-

That night you dreamt of curious blankets, and starless gazes. You felt the warmth of brilliant songs and poetry. And then...anxiety. No, _agony._ Fear…

These feelings were not your own. 

You popped up on top of your bed, the last of the fire’s embers flickering in the dark - the moon lit only outlines of the room. You were alone. But the energy was coming from...the sound of a shrill whinny drifted in from outside.

“Mers.” You said aloud to yourself. Suddenly, you heard a shifting of flora beyond the window. You stiffened, and went to it. Nothing. Just Mers, who looked fine, now. Actually, he felt fine now, too. You sighed.

“One night out of the stable…” you mumbled as sleep came again.

-

Your training was taking a little longer than you had wanted it to. For nearly the next two weeks you and Regis (Dettlaff was nowhere to be seen since your meeting) had been setting off to river and wood alike in search for monsters for you to read. “Reading” is the word you had both come to use for your ability. You had to admit that he had been correct in wanting you to practice. At first, you hadn’t so much as felt a tingle before being nearly on top of a group of drowners, and now, you could sense a kikimore nest from above ground. Which wasn’t exactly comforting, considering there were _several_ dispersed in the graveyard. Still, the work was satisfying, fulfilling, even. 

On the twelfth night when you returned to the graveyard Dettlaff was there waiting on a bench outside, drawing something in the book he had snatched off the table that first night. Upon reaching him, he snapped it shut and stood.

“Maina, why don’t you go inside.” Regis said. You tied up Mers as quickly as you could, feeling the younger man’s stare on your back all the while, and went inside. Leaning against the door for a moment, it was decided. You could certainly _feel_ him. Maybe not read him like you could animals and monsters, but you’d been right. Something was there. It was strong. 

You felt like it was pulling at you. 

_Get it together, Maina._ You shook your head and with a sigh, started towards the laboratory to go over your notes and finish the readings Regis had you doing on monsters and, you could hardly believe it, _wilderness safety_. If he ever told Geralt about that one, you’d have to kill him. 

  
  


Over an hour had passed since you left Regis to speak to Dettlaff. You had made yourself dinner, and were now sitting cross legged atop his desk. Part of what you enjoyed about reading up on monsters was being able to sketch them based off of the book’s art, which was itself brilliant. In this case, however, you had begun drawing a noonwraith and somehow gotten so off course that it was now a barely appropriate rendering of a naked woman in a less than moral pose. You sighed. 

“Excuse me,” Dettlaff cleared his voice. You jumped so high off the desk that when you hit it again your arse hurt. _Ow_. The tall, dark haired man was standing at the edge of the room. Quickly, you hid your handiwork under your notes and other drawings. 

“Were you sketching?” he asked, skeptically, though his dark brows unfurrowed slightly. 

You looked up at him. He was such an imposing figure. How much taller was he than Geralt? And bigger, too. Suddenly, realizing you’d been staring, you could feel him again. Only it was warm, _too warm_ , and it was _everywhere_. It was almost to the point of pain and you had to use everything you had learned the past few days with Regis to shut it up, to ignore it. Only it was really difficult. 

You looked down and scrunched your eyes together.

“Yes,” you replied, “it’s one of the only things I feel that I am any good at, and it’s one of the only things I feel I enjoy enough to keep doing when I am not well.” 

“Not well.” He repeated, and you looked up at him to see his brows furrowing again. It was almost an accusation. Abruptly his two steely blue eyes darted to yours and held them, piercing into you with such intensity that he looked almost as if he wanted to rip you apart. Had he been standing this close to you the entire time? Something somewhere was thudding and it took longer than it should have for you to realize that it was your heart. This time it was Dettlaff who broke his stare in thought. 

As if suddenly realizing himself, he straightened himself and walked to the door. 

“Will you be joining us, now?” you asked after him, hopefully, your heart racing.

“Yes,” he replied, and you felt his low voice rumble. You heard the door to the room across from yours open and shut.

A smile tugged at your lips. 

-


	3. Actions Speak Louder Than Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally having honed your skills enough, you, Regis, and Dettlaff visit Beauclair to gather supplies needed for the journey. Upon returning to the graveyard, you find there are unwanted guests.
> 
> There's also the first flickering of FLUFFFF.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW intention of sexual assault and language that reflects that intent. There are also some depictions of violence. If you wish to avoid these do not read past Maina leaving Beauclair. A sensitive summary will be in the notes at the end.

The next day the three of you had to go into Beauclair for supplies. That morning, you had been in the middle of trying to put the bridle bit into Mers’ mouth when Regis and Dettlaff appeared out of the crow building discussing necessities. _‘It will be the heat of early summer, Dettlaff, she’ll be fine…”_ you heard a whisper from over your shoulder as Mers bucked his head up away from your hands once more. 

_Of all the times you had to decide to_ not _want to go somewhere Mers, this is the worst._ You thought as you fiddled with the bridle, not wantingto look incompetent. It just dawned on you how weird it was that neither Regis nor Dettlaff had hors-- _there._ You thought as you finally slipped the bridle on and took the reins in your hand. 

Only before you could call to them that you were ready to go, Regis informed you that they would _meet_ you at the southeastern gate instead of traveling with you. 

Which brought you here, to the southeastern gate, twiddling your thumbs as two men appeared - one mid-sized and balding with a satchel full of herbs and simple shoes, the other tall and in a long, jet black leather frock coat with hair that curled around his ears and greyed at his temples. He had his leather bound book - a sketchbook, you gathered, in his hand with him. It made sense now as to why he asked about your drawing. You had brought along your sketchbook, too. You smiled. He was significantly older than you...by what, fifteen years at least? Twenty? It was getting difficult to approximate. But maybe if you ever got him to more than _tolerate_ you, he could teach you some things about art. ... _if he was any good_. 

“It’s market day.” Dettlaff scowled simply as you joined the two of them. Regis smirked at you and rolled his eyes about the comment, but you noticed afterwards he looked worryingly at his dark friend. 

Walking through the crowded streets of Beauclair on market day was having exactly the opposite effect on you as it was having on Dettlaff. First, the three of you went to the herb shop where you first encountered the dark haired man to get medicinal supplies and ingredients for various droughts and poisons. Regis had promised to show you how to brew these, so you were absolutely _thrilled_ about this part. Skipping up and down the showcase you excitedly tested Regis’ knowledge on the different plants. This was the best you’d felt since you had gotten to Toussaint. 

Stepping out into the sun you realized that Dettlaff was following you. Not in a stalking sense - he was still a part of the party, only, where Regis walked beside you and chatted, at any glance over your shoulder Dettlaff was only a few steps behind you, eyes shifting around either side of you and Regis as if on guard. Guarding _what?_

The next stop was a clothing store where Regis told you he had _been informed_ that nighttime can get particularly cold in the foothills of northern Toussaint, so we would need another blanket for me, and that I would need a better pair of boots. 

“But my shoes are plenty warm, Regis, and I run warm enough at night that I don’t think I’ll need _two_ top blankets...it will just weigh us down,” you tried to persuade him, he gave a sort of annoyed look in the direction of Dettlaff and shrugged.

“If you say so, I trust your judgement.” and turned away from the store. There was something you really appreciated about his confidence in you. 

After that you reached the market square for provisions of cured meats and vegetables. Again Dettlaff positioned himself oddly as Regis stood by your side, telling you of the different subspecies of rhododendron found in your homeland of Redania. It cheered you up, and you could see that he was enjoying being able to use his extensive knowledge of plants to amuse you. 

Suddenly in the bright, sunny square filled with happy people, full of images of home from Regis, and music from the bard’s stage, you felt like dancing. 

On your way to the next vendor you caught sight of what had to be the most vivid display of paintings you had ever seen. The artist was still just hanging them himself, and people were starting to gather around them. You felt a tingling sensation swell up in you and your heart skipped a beat. It had been so long since you had seen art. Real, proper, art.

“Dettlaff,” your hand touched his forearm “look!” you pointed at the wall of brightly colored canvases. Unthinking, your hand slid down until it grasped his and you started towards them, giving him a pull, jumping up to see over the heads of others. Laughing from joy at the beauty of them, you turned to Dettlaff, who was already looking directly at you. You grinned and tried to get the two of you closer to the paintings as you instinctively pulled at his hand. He allowed you to lead him. You tingled more. Looking at he wall, there were deep blues, Alizarin crimsons, cerulean blue-greens, subtle ochres and fire like oranges that all came together in shapes and strokes and textures to create a narrative. You could feel moisture in your eyes. Beaming, you looked back at your confidant to see that all the while his eyes had not moved from you. You grasped his hand firmly. Unphased by the crowd of people surrounding him for the first time in longer than you could possibly imagine, he observed you as you allowed him to, in your simple, pure joy. Turning back to the paintings, you felt the large hand reposition itself around yours, and squeeze ever so gently. 

-

After you obtained the rest of your supplies, you packed everything you could on Mers, and gave the rest to the two men, as Regis insisted that carrying it would not be a problem. It was just about sunset and you wanted to get on with the ride back. All of the stimulation from the day’s excitement was being drained from you, and since Regis and Dettlaff still had a few things to take care of in Beauclair, you’d feel best if you could get back before dark. You didn’t want to admit it to your two companions, but being alone in the dark with nothing but the feelings of beings unseen left you...uneasy. 

So it was to your great relief when you made it back to the graveyard with hardly a read on the night time wildlife. As you tied up Mers, you couldn’t even feel the kikimores’ energies. Finally dark, you sat on the bench close to the crow building and listened to the crickets. It wasn’t often you got to enjoy such peace and quiet. You leaned back against the bench and closed your eyes...thinking of the paintings from the square. 

Then you heard rustling, and voices. At once, you understood why it was so _peaceful_ to you...the animals were avoiding humans. 

Humans that were in a graveyard at night. 

The voices became louder, suddenly you didn’t feel so great about being here, and soon there were figures of men in the dark walking closer to you. At least five. You quickly abandoned your bags and hid behind a tree for fear that they would see you open the door to the tomb and make your presence known. 

“...supposed to be up here somewhere,” one of the men continued, “some old bald son of a bitch and a nice young thing. Figured we could take what they’re keeping, have our way with the bitch and kill the old bastard if he has something to say about it.”

A few of the other men laughed, while one with a thick Toussaint accent piped “well id help if you could find ze place. Idbe ezz-yar to grave rob…”

A voice came from behind you. _Shit._

“Hey, guys!” the voice came closer, “I think I found what we’re looking for.”

As soon as you went to rush out from behind the tree a hand got ahold of your hair and pulled _hard_. You screamed.

“Well hello, sweety,” he smiled toothily, as one hand held you down forcefully against a tree root, his free hand went to grab your shirt by the cowl and ripped it. He smelt of booze and something like iron. 

Like blood. 

You heard the voices of the rest of men get closer. 

“Hey! You’d better not take all that for yourself!” you heard another.

You were grasping for your dagger but you couldn’t undo the buckle that held it in its sheath. You kept trying to get it to loosen but you couldn’t. Tears were swelling up in your eyes. This disgusting man was touching you. WIth all your force you collided your knee straight into his groin and threw him off you. 

“You _cunt!_ ” the man on the gasped as he rolled onto his back, knees bent. 

Finally able, you ripped out your dagger and held it steady in front of you, eyeing Mers, who was only thirty or so feet from where you were now, feeling as panicked as you were feeling panicked. 

“Ohh, a feisty one,” said one of the five men who were now closing in on you, there was only one in between you and your horse...if you cut him down you could get around him. Mers was feeling absolutely _crazy_. 

Then you felt an awful rage from somewhere. A rage that was not yours. 

A flash of black and red crossed your vision as one of the men fell, bloodied and screaming onto the ground. 

“What the fuck was that?” one yelled. “Derns! _Derns!”_

“What the _FUCK_ was _that?!”_ the one next to him joined. Pandemonium was palpable. Your heart was going to fly out of your chest. The man on the ground cupping where you had hit him continued to moan.

In another flash the man between you and the way you had come from fell.

 _What_ was _that?_ You thought to yourself, you were _really_ starting to panic, looking around frantically. Was it going to get you, too? That was it, you bolted towards Mers but halfway there something caught your leg. 

“Listen here you bitch,” it was the man you put to the ground, and you fell down next to him as he pulled you towards him, threatening you as you dropped your dagger. _SHIT._ You tried to orient yourself towards Mers, but two more men had come to the sound of their fallen companions and now you were surrounded again. 

“How many more DISGUSTING MEN ARE IN THIS FOREST?!” you screamed as you used the back of your boot heel to gauge the eye of man who was pulling you closer to him with a _Thud_. You could barely hear his screaming now. You retrieved your dagger and lunged at the nearest figure, stabbing him directly in his neck and tearing through his veins. You were enraged. You were crying but you weren’t aware. You stood up over the dying man, the rage that was yours and the rage that wasn’t. 

There was another black and red flash.

From it, he appeared. Dettlaff was in front of you, shielding you from the others. Only it was not Dettlaff...his hands were claws and his face was like something out of the book of monsters. He hissed full of fury and you felt pure rage ripple through him. The men were scrambling to make sense of the monster before them with yells and threats, swords ready. You thought you had seen a bow. Another flash, this one brown and navy left another man dead, and missing half of his face. Somewhere in the distance you heard what could have been steam escaping a tea kettle. 

The large claw like hand brushed your bicep and as it began to disappear into smoke or fog, so did your arm. You couldn’t feel it. 

Dettlaff turned his monstrous face towards you with a look of realization and pulled you into him. 

And then you were both gone. 

-

You came to inside the building as Dettlaff hurried to set you on the hard bed that was in the room he had been using. In a moment he went to move something hard and heavy in front of the crow building’s front entrance, and was back to your side. Pain was all over you. However he moved the two of you inside this building made you feel like your head going to absolutely _implode._

His hands were bloodied as he went to remove the rest of your shirt. He looked less like a monster, now. Not because his face had changed back to human, but because he had saved you. His hands were steady as he quickly assessed your torso. 

You were feeling faint.

“Dettlaff,” you whispered and made to move your hand towards him.

He picked up your torso to adjust you; with an effort you looked at him and saw that his face reassembled itself to look like the man you thought you knew. A man who was most certainly not a man. 

You were feeling _very_ faint. 

You reached out to touch his face, to thank him, but he avoided your gaze as he made haste approximating your wounds. He looked like he was in such pain...

Then your body slumped over and you lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dettlaff and Regis help you deal with a band of grave robbers in their 2nd phase vampire forms. We find out that for some hardly known reason, that Dettlaff can turn you into smoke with him, though you have no consciousness during the time, no memory of it afterwards and physically hurts afterwards.


	4. F*ck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regis has some 'splainin to do, but you couldn't care less at the moment. Mr. Eretein allows himself to feel. The broken vampire and the broken human latch onto their emotions for each other with fierce intensity. It's limbic. Roll the intimacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: WELL, HERE'S SOME SMUT. WHOOPS, IT'S DETTLAFF.
> 
> I am not sure what level of graphic it is but it is certainly not a "fade to black" sex scene. It is non violent and consensual. 
> 
> There is also a whole cup and a half of fluff in this one. I'll probably have to write a few full length Dettlaff fics or a collection of one offs to get all of the ideas and ways I'd like to depict him out there. This is the first time I have written in a long time, so I'm hoping the writing can smooth out a bit, too. 
> 
> In the next chapter there will be a reintroduction of Geralt (and the future one off-ish chapters with him are bound to be a bonkers good time. He and Maina/you are already decent friends at this point, so I'm hoping it will be really satisfying to have our witcher / resident good boy Geralt around), and a wrap on this first story arc. It will be a long chapter.
> 
> Toussaint has some serious creep up its sleeve, and there be eerier goings on in store for the future. 
> 
> Enjoy. Let me know if I am missing any content warnings.

“You’re certain?” you heard Regis ask. 

“Yes.” the tall one with the dark hair’s voice rang out huskily. 

“Well, I’ve only ever read of one account of this happening before, Dettlaff. Being able to turn a human into smoke  _ with  _ you and  _ travel with you _ .”

Silence. 

“I am very happy for you.” instead of happiness, though, the voice was filled with great yearning.

“Regis,” Dettlaff began and his voice grew angry, “she is human.” 

“You may yet find that in your heart it does not matter, my friend.”

-

In the morning you awoke to Regis looking over you. 

You sat up quickly. Your side ached. Your  _ head _ ached. You were pretty certain that your heart ached. That emotion you knew belonged to you. 

You stared up at the balding man.

“Maina, you were attacked last night,” Regis looked taken aback, almost hopeful, “do you remember?” His eyes flickered to the door to the room and then back. 

“I remember.” You replied. 

“Then I owe you an explanation,” he began, but you interrupted. 

“Is Dettlaff okay?” You asked. 

Regis blinked. 

“Maina, are you familiar with higher vampires?” He asked. Your blood went cold. Vampires. They were vampires. That explained the claws and the fangs and the speed and the flashes...the flashes. They were smoke. You remembered reading about higher vampires in the book Regis himself had given you. They were strong, stronger than any other living creature, highly intelligent, they had heightened senses, they were impossible for mortals to kill. The only instruction the book had on how to fight them was to steer clear of them altogether. And they thirst for human blood. You swallowed, hard, and made yourself to sit up straighter and look him in the eyes. 

“Are you, too?” You asked. He gave you a sympathetic look. “But you are my friend,” you continued, and he nodded. 

“...and you wouldn’t hurt me.” you stated. He nodded. 

“Neither would Dettlaff.” You added, he tried to give you a smile, but it looked more like he was bracing for impact. 

“Regis, you are one of the most likeable people,” you stopped at the word ‘people’.

“Yes,” he encouraged.

“One of the most likeable people I have met in all of my life,” you finished. “I wouldn’t like to lose your friendship  _ now. _ ”

The expression on the face looking at you was one that could have broken you in two. It was evident that being accepted for what he was was not a luxury the vampire experienced often. You reached out to touch his arm. This was good, but it wasn’t what was important to you right now. 

“Regis, where is Dettlaff?” You asked. 

“I’m afraid he became convinced no human could accept him as a vampire.” he replied. 

So this was it. 

You leapt from the cot and threw a jacket over your small clothes. You did not care. Breeches, a jacket, and a bra were enough. Out the door you hoisted yourself onto Mers who was still fully saddled and kicked hard. Driving Mers towards Beauclair you reached out to him, to feel him.

Through the city you pushed until you came to an unexpected place, a rundown and out of business children's toy shop. You stopped to make sure your feeling was true. It was. A tingling sensation, as best as you could describe it, was coming from the shop. It made the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. 

You leapt off Mers and looked to either side of you, people were watching but you didn’t care; you kicked the front door hard. 

“Dettlaff!” You yelled. “Dettlaff where are you?” How could he leave, believing that. After having these feelings, these dreams, all the stupid non stop clutter of him and his stupid fucking frock coat in your head these past two months and think that he could…

You ran all the way up the stairs until you saw him rise from a chair, disheveled black hair and stony eyed he peered back at you. You froze. 

“Maina,” he began, then stopped. A figure he had been whittling dropped from his hand as it trembled. 

Immediately you ran to him flinging your arms over his shoulders and digging your face into his chest. 

“No,” You heard him say, but you could hardly hear it. You placed your hands on either side of his face.

“NO,” he yelled and pushed you away, firmly but not violently. You were taken aback. You felt a searing pain so fierce you whimpered. Was that his pain? Or was it yours? You clutched your heart. “You do not understand,” he yelled. You were afraid, you were afraid he was going to leave and you didn’t know why you couldn’t let that happen. 

“I know that you’re a vampire, Dettlaff,” You said, steadily, slowly. He was huffing. He was near tears and that made  _ you _ near tears. 

“So you will expose me, then,” he said, looking angry, looking guarded. You took a step forward, the softest expression on your face.

“I will never.” You replied. 

“Then you will use me to get your way!” his chest rising and falling, looking more feral by the minute, you weren’t certain that he wouldn’t transform into a less human form and flee, or do the human thing and cry. 

“I will  _ never _ ,” You replied, scandalized and sad. 

“Then why do you follow me here,  _ human? _ ” he roared at you as it happened and he transformed again, snarling at you. 

Only you weren’t afraid of him. You were so, so devastatingly _sad_ for him. Who did this to him? Did the world do this to him? Did we humans do this to him?

All at once you were certain he was far from being the monster in this room.

You walked over to him, slowly. Seeing that you did not flee at the sight of him seemed to be calming him down. You could feel that he was relaxing. Some other emotion was filling him and filled the space just as intensely as you walked over to him in his state of claws and fangs. Looking down at you with the whites of his eyes strained and a snarl on his mouth, you took his face into your hands, and brought it down onto your shoulder. Cupping his head in one hand and wrapping your other arm around his shoulder, you held him. 

You felt his breathing steady as he turned back into human form, then he took you into his arms and held you up in them. He walked you over to the small bed in the room and sat down on it, still cradling you in his arms, as you held him in yours. Something gave in him, and you felt him shudder. Wetness accumulated on your shoulder where his head was resting, and his shoulders heaved up and down. He held onto you so strongly that you felt his heart beating as he silently wailed into your shoulder. You stroked his head and whispered “shhhh” into his ear. You weren’t certain how long you were there like this, but eventually the two of you laid down, and he had his arms wrapped around you protectively. 

“Dettlaff…” you whispered as you stroked his face. You had little idea what he felt towards you, or what this interaction actually had meant, but you were enjoying saying his name, and feeling him near you. 

He opened his eyes, so close to yours. He was so...large, compared to you. So much rougher. He smelt like something wild and his skin was coarser, too. His hands drowned yours, but you knew that to be a vampiric trait. Those hands fascinated you. You looked back into his eyes, they were watching you intently in all of their glorious icy blue. Suddenly you wondered where Regis might be, and if he had known - or had any idea of the goings on happening here. 

You felt a hand cup the entirety of your head and gently push you towards his face, closing his eyes, he placed your forehead next to his. 

“I will not leave you,” he said simply, but severely. It was a pact of some sort, you could feel it. In that moment you became acutely aware that you were not certain of exactly what you had signed up for. But your entire body trembled at his words, at his gruff, so throaty and coarse. You were honored to even be this close to another living thing, to finally experience someone feeling a thing so intense towards  _ you. _ It aroused you, and went to caress his thigh, moving upwards, curious about what vampires--

“Maina…” he sighed and his hands gripped your hips. You could feel something on your leg harden and filled you with excitement. You were tingling in places you hadn’t before and it was purely physical. He pulled you in closer as his lips met yours; you let out an involuntary moan. His breath hitched at the sound, his chest was rising and falling. You went to grab the sides of his head in your hands, thumbs caressing his rough face, still kissing his lips. You inhaled sharply as he bucked his hips backwards and parted his lips to breathe deeply before bringing his lips back to yours. You could feel his exhale on your face as you opened your mouth wider and kissed him more deeply. He cocked his head and grasped the back of yours in one of his hands, suddenly not being able to get enough of the feeling of your being in his hands. He bucked again and inhaled. You started at the buckle of his pants before he urged to do it himself. You began undoing your own. 

You collided again only this time he sat up against the wall and wrapped you in his arms. He breathed in the scent on your neck and kissed it, sucking on it gently. You were becoming so wet that you could feel it running down your leg. “Detlaff…” you moaned. He froze and looked at you with his steely blue eyes, you stared back at him, and with a grunt he pushed you down on top of him, entering you like a wave of pleasure you gasped again. He let out something low, and long, and guttural and bucked his hips in response. You could feel him twitch inside you with pleasure. You began rolling your hips, he rolled his eyes back and bit down on his lip and you realized it was beginning to bleed. Fangs were growing in his mouth as you squealed with pleasure. His eyes were growing dark again but his face was still human. He growled at you and held you in closer, smelling you, fucking you, holding you. You could feel the head of his penis against your inner walls and hit a spot so sweet, something was rubbing your clitoris but you didn’t know what or how it was, he picked you up and set you on your back and fucked you harder, and slower. He grabbed the base of your neck and steely blue eyes pierced you, holding your gaze as one half of his upper lip lifted to expose his canine. You squeezed your insides and started to come against him inside you, he growled something low and rumbling and bucked  _ hard _ er and more rapidly. “Maina…” he moaned into your ear “...you are mine” in low vibrato and came inside of you, he forced himself further and further into you, letting himself fill you with it, and it lasted longer than you were ready for or expecting. 

He shuddered before taking you back into his arms and rolling you to his side. 

He laid, nuzzling his face into your suprasternal notch, arms holding you near. Gripping you for fear of losing you. You laid there, for hours. You knew you both had to go back to Regis and explain that he still had his hunting party. You had to help Geralt get out of jail and then...well, explain to Geralt how you came to have a vampire in your bed. Or, you hoped you would have a vampire in your bed, still.  _ This _ vampire. 

You looked out of the corner of your eye to see him closing his eyes and smelling you, feeling your skin on his face. Some of his hair had fallen onto his face and he took one muscular arm to run his hands through it. Before running the same hand through your hair and tucking it behind your ear. Looking at you observingly before closing his eyes and resting his head on your chest. You stared at him in wonder. There were many questions now, you realized. 

“How old are you?” You asked. Slowly, he stopped nuzzling and you saw him look at you out of the corner of his eye. Did he actually just arch a brow? He took you and rested your head on his muscular chest.

“Two hundred and seventy six.” He replied. 

...and that, you did  _ not _ know how to reply to. 

“Dettlaff…” you started, but all he did was hold you closer. His entire body went rigid. You felt him hold a breath, and then his breathing got shallow and fast as he put his face to the top of your head.

“I…” his words were sticking in his throat. 

“I mean I’m only in my twenties,” you laughed, but his breathing became more rapid and erratic. His body was still in the same rigid state. You wanted to make this casual, but you were in awe of his being...and right now, you felt incredibly insignificant because of it. How could he even take you seriously. How could Regis take you seriously? They have lived so much life and must know so much. But the higher vampire in your hands was holding onto you firmly and securely. 

“Please,” you heard him whisper, but you were not sure if it was to you. Was he worried you thought he was  _ too old for you? _ Did he think those rules could possibly apply?

“Dettlaff,” you chuckled, thinking you had found the issue, “I am  _ not  _ going to judge you for being two hundred and twenty years  _ older _ than I’ll probably ever…” 

But he was shaking now. 

“Please, Maina,” was all he said, his voice cracked, and he held onto you even tighter and closer than before, and you were certain now that he was desperately trying to keep his breathing under control. 

So you took deep breaths, and stroking his head, fell asleep in his strong embrace. 

-

You awoke alone in his bed back in the Crow Building. But the dark haired man was nowhere to be found. You got up and went to your own room, head aching, and fell flat onto that bed instead. You sighed, absentmindedly drawing circles on your skin wondering how he able to bring your body to turn into and smoke and back (you assumed that was how you came to wake up here after having fallen asleep curled up in the tall man’s…tall higher vampire’s arms in Beaucair’s one and only closed toy shop). 

Stretching, you rolled over onto something flat that crinkled. Parcel wrappings? You sat up and grabbed the mid sized, flat and square package next you. You started undoing it to reveal an intricate leather vest stiffened by being boiled, it was a mahogany color. You looked for a description or information on care and saw it was stamped with the sign of two swords crossing each other...you remembered passing a sign like it while in Beauclair for market two days ago. It was armor. 

Suddenly there were two knocks at the door and Regis popped his head in, expression unreadable, until his eyes wandered to the leather breastplate you were holding up in front of you. 

“Ah,” he sighed, “that’s where he went before returning.” He motioned at the breastplate before walking in and sitting at the primitive chair situated in front of the fireplace. “Hate to say that that was a bit ironic.” 

It  _ was _ ironic, seeing as if Dettlaff hadn’t bought this he could have returned to the graveyard sooner and you may have never seen him in his bestial form. You shuddered. You hadn’t gotten over that night, Regis’ expression became one of worry. “I apologize,” he provided, and made eye contact with you, “I know someone who is excellent to speak to...when one is coming off of an incident.” 

You nodded, willing to try anything. Now that you knew he was most likely  _ prehistoric _ , you were willing to do what he suggested even more than before, and you had already been quite willing. “Thanks, Regis...for everything.”

He cocked his head slightly, and smiled. “Maina, I thank you  _ very much _ , too.”

Regis explained that you would have to leave no later than noon to reach Fox Hollow by nightfall. Then, you’d camp and in the morning begin the investigation for the Striga. “With any luck, she will be hiding near the town and not too far into the wildernes. We can ask the locals about her...which should give us a clue as to where she is residing…” he then had paused for a bit and shrugged, “clues apart from the murders”. After he left you the rest of the morning to do as you pleased, and apologized for having to leave so soon after such a violent night. Overall, though, the barber-surgeon looked happy. 

You walked around the crow building that morning feeling for any sign of Dettlaff, but there was none. Surprisingly, though, you  _ did _ find Mers tied up to the tree you had chosen as his hitching post some time ago. You had asked Regis if you all could stop by Corvo Bianco on the way to Fox Hollow, but then thought better of it as it could potentially add almost half a day's ride depending on traffic. It was easier to bypass Beauclair to the west, and head North. It was also wilder on that side, more countryside and fewer settlements laid between the city of Beauclair and the Amell mountains. You looked down at the stump you used for climbing onto Mers and sighed thinking about how funny your needing a step stool was to Geralt. There was a growing suspicion in you that he had acquired the overly tall horse just to amuse himself. Stepping up onto the stump and laying your arms over Mers’ loin. He whinnied in happiness and tossed his head. You could feel that he was at peace, and it gave you peace. Through the swaying trees you could see the peak of Mount Gorgon and you stared at it idly. Wondering how you got to be where you are now. You took another deep breath and you felt open, ready, and interested. Then you felt it again, somewhere in the Toussaint wilderness, your emotion reached something living. It was as if a part of your exhale sent out a call to the world...like posting a notice or giving it to the village crier, and the subsequent warmth in your chest was someone or something receiving it. You wondered if it was reading you back...you wondered what could be reading you. Whatever it was, it felt close. 

You looked around. “Hello?” You called. It didn’t seem like it would be much use, though, seeing as it was probably a beast or a monster.  _ That being said,  _ you considered,  _ not all labeled beast or monster are incapable of speech.  _ There was a lot you had learned in the past few weeks, and it seemed like your already changing world was now evolving into something new completely. It gave you hope. You didn’t want to live in the world you once did. You liked this one  better. 

-

It was approaching nightfall when you and Regis made camp just outside of Fox Hollow, in the foothills of wild country. Wrapped up in your one blanket, you poked at the fire with a stick. You had tried to concentrate on a small booklet labeled  _ Striga _ that Regis had given you, but you couldn’t concentrate. You hadn’t seen or had any news from Dettlaff all day and you were beginning to worry where he could be or what he could be doing. 

Or how he could be feeling. Maybe you didn’t want to feel his...whatever it was you felt around him, anymore...in case it would hurt.

Just as you made a move to share your concern with Regis, the tall dark man appeared in the light of the fire across from you next to where Regis was writing. You stopped dead in your tracks. His eyes moved from Regis to yours, staring into you intensely. His nostrils flared and his hand balled into a fist. 

“Regis,” he began, eyes cast downwards in thought. He sounded very serious. 

“I know, Dettlaff.” the older vampire replied. “I will go see to it, now.”

“Regis…” he rumbled from his diaphragm, deep and strong, stopping Regis where he stood.

“I will not forget to brew it,” Regis replied, exasperatedly.

You fingered the leather breastplate you had found on your bed earlier this morning; a sinking feeling in your gut. 

“Stay with Maina,” was the last thing Regis said as the hand he had placed on Dettlaff's shoulders slid off; he and his satchel turned into smoke and vanished. Dettlaff had puffed out his chest and growled at the last statement. Great.

You looked up, and the very large vampire was staring at you, again. You saw him flare his nostrils. Suddenly, you realized what was happening. 

He was uncertain of  _ you _ . 

“Dettlaff…” you started - he inhaled. Was he going to expect you to run from him everyday? To reject him? 

You truly hated whoever, or whatever, did this to him. 

“Thank you, for the breast plate,” you began, “it’s beautiful.”

He walked over to you now, and you opened your arms for him to know that you wanted him to sit next to you. He glanced around before taking a seat and looked down at you with that slicked back hair curling around his ears. His eyes were searching when you rested your head against his broad chest. His body stiffened. 

You remembered his words the night before, his pain, and his uncertainty. You realized that if you were going to have anything close to being with him that you were going to need to be reassuring that you wanted him. That you wouldn’t abandon him, or cut him down. You looked up at him - and he, down to you.

“I will not leave you,” as the words escaped your mouth you felt the tall higher vampire’s body relax. He closed his eyes and held you. 

“Please, wear the breastplate,” he whispered into your hair. 

/\\_~.~_/\

Not long later, the last traces of the early summer sunset took the sky from dark blue to black. Dettlaff was tending to the fire, occasionally making rounds. And when he was doing neither of those things, he pulled out his sketchbook. Watching you sleep, he drew you again, as he had since your first encounter in Beauclair. It was instinctual, though he did not understand why. When he looked at you, his insides burned, and recoiled from the thought of a mere human having this much power over him. A fragile human.

He wanted to know when Regis would have his explanation. 

/\\_<l>_/\


	5. The Big Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maina overhears a cryptic conversation between Dettlaff and Regis. They reach Fox Hollow with some time to spare, deal with the Striga, and reunite with Geralt! I had a LOT of fun writing this chapter and making the art for it, so I hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mild depictions of violence and (graphic-ish) depictions of consensual sex. I also have included two digital pieces I made for this chapter. :)

A steam kettle was hissing again, rolling over you saw that the noise was coming from a monstrous black cat. 

-

You awoke in the night to hear the return of Regis. Exhausted, you slowly covered your face with your blanket and pretended to be asleep. He began walking over to you; if they expected you to get up before sunrise they were sorely mistaken. 

You heard the footsteps stop aside where you lay. 

“Were you able?” Dettlaff asked - you hadn’t noticed him laying next you, perfectly still and silently in the night. 

“I’m afraid there is no substance on this world that can prevent our kind’s,” he hesitated and Dettlaff said nothing.You had a feeling that they were looking at you to see if you were still asleep. There was a rustling beside you and the two vampires walked off a ways, quietly. You uncovered your head enough that you could hear properly if you concentrated well enough. 

“Yes,” the younger vampire picked up where Regis unsaid words left off, “I am aware. I thought it was clear I meant something for _her_.” 

“Therein lies the predicament exactly,” the older vampire replied. “Most of the devices are used to stop human men, the potions as well.”

A beat. 

“The only way to be certain is to remove the organs entirely,” again, he paused, “ _hers.”_

“You will not touch her,” he growled. 

“That I have no intention of,” Regis stated, not sounded defensive or offended. “It _is_ dangerous, and we will not risk it. But, you have to consider that it may not be much more dangerous than the alternative, Dettlaff. Will you abstain?” 

There was a long silence. 

“Here then,” the balding vampire said with a clinking of glass, “I was able to produce _this._ I found its recipe while rereading through the journals on human husbandry in Tesham Mutna yesterday. The journal confirmed my theory. I’ve summarized my findings from the entry in _this_ note. I think you will be very interested in what it has to say.” 

There was another long silence and you started to drift in and out of sleep before you heard Regis’ voice.

“You’ll have to share this with her, Dettlaff. That you have even _considered_ . She is human, and has not had the luxury nor curse of living long enough to understand the details of what is missing from her life. How acutely aware you become of exactly what you _need_ and what you _desire_ when you are denied of it. She will not understand what it is she can give you…” the older vampire sighed, “a momentary relief from pain. Maybe even a glimpse of true happiness.”

By the distance between steps you could tell Dettlaff was walking back to you. 

“Be patient and considerate,” he added, “and do try to control your temper.” 

Head now spinning, you drifted off back to sleep. 

-

The next day you headed out with Regis to canvas the wild area surrounding Fox Hollow, and Dettlaff followed with some distance by your request. Explaining to him that this entire time you were able to feel waves of energy come off his person (though they did not make sense like other reads...and you weren’t certain they were always emotions) and that that could distract you from locating the Striga den seemed like a big commitment, so you made up that you’d like for him to keep an eye out for any threats. You decided not to bring Mers along in case he started to get emotionally distracting, too. It was an odd feeling, knowing that so much had gone awry here recently, when everything seemed so serene and beautiful. Regis wanted to avoid having to speak to the locals if at all possible; you had a feeling it was because Dettlaff didn’t want to be around crowds of humans more than what was necessary. It wasn’t long into the afternoon before you came across an oversized burrow in the ground northeast of Fox Hollow, on the outskirts of Toussaint. A deer carcass lay rotting five feet away from the entrance and the smell coming from the entrance itself was absolutely appalling.

“I think this is it, Regis.” You said, relieved and proud of yourself. You had followed the feeling of absolute dread to the spot quite easily, though the feeling itself was only a faint read. Fainter than you had expected - and you had to really concentrate at first to figure out if you were following it - if it was getting stronger or fainter. 

“How sure are you?” Regis asked. 

You reached out for it, again, and were certain. “Positive.” you replied; he smiled.

“Then we will wait until sundown. It will hunt tonight.” He informed you. You looked at him, cocking your head. 

“Tonight is a full moon?” you asked.

“I am glad to hear that you _have_ been reading the material I provided to you,” the three of you started walking back towards Fox Hollow, “and not just creating lewd sketches.” 

Further up the hill, Dettlaff’s head snapped towards the two of you attentively, cocking it in some sort of amusement before walking off into the brush. Your face started to color as you reached the path around the town. 

“Regis!” you gasped, giving his shoulder a push. “those notes are personal!”

Regis side eyed you. “As your tutor, naturally, I wanted to check how you were progressing. So you can imagine my surprise.” He widened his eyes and pierced his lips, exhaling loudly in mock exasperation. You chuckled. 

“They’re pretty good, though, right?” you ribbed him with your elbow, eliciting a small cackle from him. He rolled his eyes. 

“Anatomically correct, at least.” you were just getting to Fox Hollow as cutting through it would be the quickest way back to camp. The village was sleepy mid-afternoon; only a few children out playing up and down the stream. One or two men and women in the street.

“Where are they keeping him?” you asked quietly, searching the one road of Fox Hollow. “Why is Geralt _letting_ them keep him locked up?”

“I suppose it’s because he calls Toussaint his home, now.” he replied, then pointed to a stout, one story building at the end of the row. “They’re keeping him there.”

“Can we visit him?” You asked. 

“We cannot.” You were a bit miffed by that. 

“Can’t we just break him out?” You asked. 

“Yes,” he said, “but he’d rather save himself the long term trouble and wait for us to deal with his problem for him. He’s obviously been meditating a lot.” 

You looked at him. He rolled his eyes again.

“ _I_ can visit him because _I_ can get through doors without opening them, Maina.” He reminded you.

The stout building where Geralt was passed you by slowly as you made your way into the woods by camp before disappearing entirely.

“So, we _need_ to keep the Striga alive?” you asked. 

“If we want them to know that she was a Striga. They return to their human form after death. We’ll need her to be interrogated.” You frowned.

“What if we just lure the Striga _to_ Fox Hollow.” you suggested. “I mean, instead of you lifting the curse. What did she frame Geralt of doing?”

“Well, for starters, she did it _after_ she had been cursed and turned into a Striga, which is highly unusual. Instinctually they hate all human men, but to hate one enough to pile the carcasses of her dead at Geralt’s bedroll is fairly cunning.” He continued, “then, when you add Toussaint’s knight problem to the scene of Geralt waking up next to corpses, you get a framed witcher.” 

The two of you advanced along the babbling brook that ran from Fox Hollow to camp. Regis was cradling his chin between thumb and forefinger in consideration.

“You do bring up a valid point, though,” he said, finally. “Personally, I’ve always been skeptical of how much information we will be able to extract from her after the curse is lifted, anyway. They don’t always fully recover their mental processes.”

He sighed.

“ _You_ need to learn how to use a weapon.” he said to your surprise. 

“Where did _that_ come from?” you asked, taken aback.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, “and there is no reason why you should limit yourself by not knowing how to properly defend yourself.” You stopped walking, he looked back at you. He frowned, “I’d thought of that night, in the graveyard.”

At that, you frowned, too. Right. The thought of the man who had ripped your shirt came to mind and you went frozen solid. 

“Maina,” Regis looked at you imploringly, “you would be missed if something were to happen to you.”

He walked up to you and rubbed the sides of your arms with his hands until you felt yourself beginning to thaw. You were able to walk again. 

“Who would teach me?” you asked, camp just becoming visible through the trees and undergrowth.

“I personally don’t know much about weaponry,” he replied, “as I myself _am_ one, and thus do not need any. But Geralt is a decent enough teacher, and knowledgeable.” 

You laughed, “Geralt doesn’t take me seriously enough to teach me swordplay.”

Regis was looking at where Dettlaff lay lazily sketching beneath a birch tree, “I believe he will have a change of heart.”

“Well, I’ll leave the convincing up to you,” you continued, flopping down on a log and tossing an apple to Mers. “So, you never answered me about luring the striga into Fox Hollow.” 

“I suppose we can try it. Geralt won’t be happy about it, since the woman could probably be saved, to a varying degree.” It was apparent that Regis was working through something in his head. “Dettlaff and I can’t very well run around in our transiti-” he stopped mid sentence. The scratching of Dettlaff’s charcoal came to an abrupt halt. He looked up out of the corner of his eye at Regis. 

You looked between the two of them. Something told you Regis was about to say “transitional”. 

“Okay,” you moved on, hoping to mend whatever kind of weird vampiric hang up this was, “so we’ll lure the Striga to Fox Hollow, get the authorities to see it, kill it..” 

“Regis,” Dettlaff said, standing up. Regis looked at his friend and then pointedly towards you. Dettlaff dropped his arms to his sides. He looked at you, but did not move. “Do you think it wise, Maina, for you to be there?”

The afternoon was waning and the sun was dancing off his features, illuminating his eyes. It was intimidating. You understood that you didn’t hold a candle to either of them in terms of being able to defend yourself, but, you’d put in a lot of work to get to the point where you could actually be able to see a real, raging Striga in the flesh. 

Dettlaff walked up to you; his emanation was so warm and vivid in the moment. You closed your eyes and let your insides become warm and electric. You opened them again and looked up to him. 

“No,” you stated truthfully, “but I’ve worked hard to be able to help…” you sighed. “It wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t get to see it.” 

Dettlaff hummed, low and steady, but it wasn’t his usual growl. It seemed like he had known this would be your answer. He looked over to Regis, who nodded at him encouragingly. “Hmmmph.” 

His breathing was getting deeper, “then I will be there, too.”

You wondered where else he had intended to be. Figuring that was all he was going to say, you walked over to your bag and plucked out your own sketchbook, interested in being able to compare the striga you drew over the real thing. Dettlaff, though, walked over with you, “will you walk with me?” 

You were surprised that you could see a trace of enthusiasm when you said yes.

Once you had gotten out of sight of Regis he started talking about the forest of Toussaint and how it differs from that of Nazair, which you gathered he was from or had spent a great deal of time in. As you walked on, he gradually started to feel more comfortable. You were completely unprepared for him to be this way...this open. He was speaking at length, getting lost in he details of nature that he found... _enthralling._ You were entranced. You felt like he had been shoved away in some lonesome place for most of his life, which was a shame. He didn't open up to you completely, but it was certainly progress.

You sat in the grass of a field neighboring the wood and he gave you a quick lesson on lighting while sketching. A very, _very_ patient lesson on lighting. It wasn’t exactly the light itself that gave you trouble, it was the shadows. He'd wanted to see you go through the process of shading a Bryonia that he got up and positioned himself so that you were between his legs, leaning back against his chest. He’d removed his coat so that you would be more comfortable.

Tongue sticking out slightly, you made tiny concentric and non concentric circles under the bulb of the first flower you had quickly sketched, and then at its base, making it appear shaded. Only something wasn’t right. It looked muddy. It was supposed to be the base of the flower and the top of the stem but they poured into one another, making it look like the base of the flower became long and skinny. You made the base of the bulb darker to try to separate the two shapes, but it just made it more incohesive and harder to understand.

“Damn it,” you sighed, frustrated. You pressed your palm against your head with your free hand. 

He rested in head on your shoulder. You shivered. Your insides had gone from ablaze to a constant simmering since you started sketching, but just like that they were again searing. “This is an important lesson.”

He put his face next to yours and pointed at the base of the real life flower, “you see there, the bottom of the flower - the bulb, is it lighter or darker than there” he points to just above the base of the bulb, where the shadow on the petal began, “which do you think?”

You looked at it. You couldn’t really tell. Honestly, it looked the same. Or...you weren’t sure. To you it would make sense that it would be darkest at the bottom - furthest away from the light, but that couldn’t be right, or else your sketch would look better right now. 

“I...I can’t tell,” you admitted, disheartened. You were waiting for a _tsk tsk_ or some sign of his disappointment. 

“It is _lighter_ at the very base than it is where the shadow first starts,” he told you, taking your hand that held the charcoal in his and lifting it them to the paper, beginning to shade the next bulb, “it is because a thing is always darkest immediately where it deviates from light,” he gently made sweeping motions and small delicate angles with your hand in his long fingers. “But,” he continued, “the closer you get to another object, in this case the stem, the lighter the shadow gets on the petal. Because even if the _stem_ too is in shadow, it is not completely without light, and so it reflects it. The petal’s shadow becomes lighter because of it. As long as one is partially in light, neither can be completely dark.” 

He let go of your hand and, in front of you was a perfectly rendered Bryonia flower. 

You sat like that for the better part of an hour, practicing your newly learned tool. Then Dettlaff began to stir behind you. You stiffened.

“Maina,” he whispered, and started to kiss the spot where your neck met your shoulder. His warm breath on you made you shudder.

“Yes?” you asked, turning to him. His steely blue eyes gazed into yours. It looked like he had wanted to ask a question, but the moment his eyes went to your lips you gathered your courage and closed the distance and your lips met his, soft and pillowy. You shut your eyes and felt the warmth engulf you as it became more intense. Your hand began searching for his groin and in an instant your hips were encircled and being flipped around to astride him. His deep chest smelling of cedar and his eyes mischievous he kissed you again, breathing deeper and deeper. He was nearly shaking as you started undoing your breeches, but a knot in the tie was keeping them from coming off, you gasped as he ripped them in two and threw them to the side. Lifting you up further as he laid back you perched yourself on top his face. You moaned, as he breathed on your lower set of lips, teasing you with his tongue. 

~~~

After sex, at long last, his muscles relaxed and he pulled you in close to him to breath in your scent on your chest. You blushed- half the forest probably heard him climax, Fox Hollow probably heard him, Regis _definitely_ heard him. Mers probably thought you just got _murdered._ Fornicating with Dettlaff certainly wasn't a _subtle_ matter. It made you want to go all over again thinking about it, actually. He nuzzled his face in the place where your neck met your shoulder then moved on to nuzzle your face. _He’s like a damn lion with these face snuggles_ , you thought, but reciprocated it as best as your plain old human self could. _Must be some weird vampire thing. Does he have scent glands on his jaws or some shit?_ You felt your knees weaken and you weren’t even standing.

He lifted you up and redressed himself. You were happily lost in the thought of him marking his territory in some sort of adorable instinct until you remembered that he had made dish rags out of your pants. He must have had the same realization.

“Are they in your saddlebag?” he asked, and you knew he was referring to your other breeches. You smiled and nodded. “I’ll retrieve them. Do not move,” then wisped away as smoke.

He returned in a moment's notice and took up the remnants of your favorite breeches, you frowned at them. “I apologize,” he said looking down. Was he embarrassed? You realize that he probably _was_ embarrassed. It was the type of thing someone who was insecure about being thought of as a monster _would_ be embarrassed about, you thought as you finished putting on the in-tact pair he brought back.

You didn’t want to be embarrassed, but you didn’t want to lose all of your favorite garments, either. 

“I will mend them,” he assured you. For some reason _that_ got you going, too. This was going to be an issue. You were almost going to suggest another round when you realized that it was sunset. You could use a bath, too. Down there you were, well... Maybe it _was_ better that these weren’t your favorite pants. 

You must have looked uncomfortable, or irresistable, because Dettlaff scooped you up in his arms and walked away with you. 

-

“Will you meet some of my kind?” he asked you, passing the camp with you still in his arms. You weren’t sure if you understood.

“Higher Vampires?” you asked, “Dettlaff are we not stopping at camp?” 

“It is dark and the moon is full,” he replied, “I thought you wanted to see your Striga?”

“I do,” you started, your concentration now split between one million newly hatching questions on the prospect of meeting higher vampires and the striga in your imminent future. “But,” you focused, “shouldn’t we make sure Regis is ready? We have sapphire on us just in case…”

“He is already there, Maina,” Dettlaff said as he reached the edge of the forest. He inhaled deeply, “I can smell you.” 

You blushed. “I think part of that is you, actually.” 

A smile more devilish had never existed as the one that spread across Dettlaff’s face.

You shuddered, and your loins twitched. This was _definitely_ going to be an issue. 

“Well, there the two of you are,” Regis yelled as he and the first buildings of Fox Hollow came into view. Dettlaff put you down, then. “Done having a stroll, are we?” 

_It must be nice being so far atop the food chain that you can handle an impending striga attack being completely blase about it,_ you thought.

Just then your ears rang at a terrible screeching sound. Your hairs on the back of your neck stood up and Dettlaff pulled right back to him, “stay beside Regis, please,” and walked away. _Where was he go--_

Your thoughts were interrupted as a giant, gorilla shaped monster ripped through the trees on the other side of Fox Hollow and hurled itself towards the bridge. The men, women, and children that were outside began screaming.

Regis pulled you behind him, defensively. Enough people were out that they would see it. All Regis or Dettlaff would have to appear, kill it, then disappear again into smoke. It was simple. _Wait,_

“Why the bridge?” you asked Regis. He looked back at you and smiled crookedly.

“I may or may not have needed some bait,” he replied. You looked again at the bridge and saw that it was covered in what must have been 5 or more gallons of blood. 

“Regis!” You gasped as the Striga lunged over to it and began tearing it apart.

“It’s from a _bear_ Maina, don’t overreact,” he sighed, pretending to be bored. Was he _messing with you during a striga attack? ALSO_

“An innocent _bear_ , Regis!” You heard him laugh as he shook his head, but it was cut short when the Striga looked up from the bridge, bloodied, to a man who was facing it with poorly made spear. 

“Oh, bother,” Regis said, “Geralt _is_ going to be upset with us now.”

The striga pounced and gripped the man by his neck and tossed his limp body overhead. Just then Dettlaff was by your side again. The striga looked to another man standing opposite jail and sprinted.

“Dettlaff _do_ somethin--”

BANG. The wall to the jailhouse exploded and out of it burst the witcher Geralt who was searching the street when he eyes landed on you.

“MAINA,” he yelled, angrily, 

“OF ALL THE THINGs,” he drew his sword, 

“YOU COULD HAVE _POSSIBLY_ ” he continued, running full speed at the striga,

“GOTTEN YOURSELF INTO” he pounced at it, swiping but missing by a hair, "YOU CHOSE"

The striga retaliated and Geralt barely in time to dodge it 

“A FUCKING” his head popped back up and he went to strike it again

“ _VAMPIRE?!”_ he lunged and smoked the Striga in its thigh before casting igni and setting it on fire. He rolled away and the beast flared. 

Now he was running towards you, his unmistakable look of fury was directed at Dettlaff, who was now holding you by the hand, tense but calm. “I am sorry,” he told you. 

“Geralt!” you yelled as the striga came full speed at him. Regis turned and flew at it in an instant, halting it momentarily with a full bodied collision. The beast was regarding Geralt with an expression similar to what Geralt’s had been only moments ago. 

Then you were gone. 

You reappeared only moments later fifty feet away in the treeline. Your head felt like it was being split in two. “Drink this and stay here” Dettlaff urged before tossing you something from his coat and smoking out, only to reappear back in the action, transformed with his fangs and claws out. 

He wasted no time, he called to the Striga who stopped dead in her tracks to Geralt, and he closed the distance between in a blink of an eye.

It was over.

Somewhere beside you Dettlaff reappeared, but you were looking at the Striga as it lay without struggle, slowly becoming smaller...you wanted to see it. 

In a trance you began walking towards it, unaware of whether Dettlaff was following you or Geralt was yelling at you, and looked down at it...at her. The mangled corpse of an ordinary woman, cursed, tormented, and murdered. You shuddered. 

_A Striga only feels the most absolute dread,_ Regis words rang in your head. You tried to find solace in it but you couldn’t. She looked absolutely terrified. You bent over and closed her eyes, feeling a tear running down your cheek. 

Geralt approached you holding out a large piece of cloth, you took it and laid it over her. You sniffled, blindsided by the sadness of it all. He put an arm around you. You hugged your friend back. 

“Maina,” he began, but saw you looking around the treeline. “They’ve gone back to your camp. They can’t be seen around here now after that.” He frowned. “Well, at least not wearing the same damn clothes.” 

He thought for a moment.

“Actually I’d be dumbfounded if Dettlaff wasn’t waiting for you,” he paused, “probably just skulking around, staring at you from a distance.” He looked out into the night, “about that...”

You looked at him frowning, “Geralt,” 

“We won’t talk about it now,” he said, “I’m going to clear things up with the jailer and the innkeep. I’ll meet you five miles south of here, Regis knows where that will be.” He walked away grumbling something along the lines of ‘ _fucking full moon and all_.’

The way he had sneered when saying Regis’ name did not leave you feeling very optimistic as you walked towards the trees. But, just as Geralt had suspected, Dettlaff was there waiting for you just beyond the treeline. The people of Fox Hollow were too afraid to search even the immediate vicinity. 

He leant you his coat, and, since it drowned you, picked you up to carry you so you would not trip. 

“Here,” he said, handing out a vial. “Drink it.” 

Oh yeah, you remembered, your head felt like it was splitting apart. You gulped it down. 

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” you replied, “I wasn’t expecting it to be like that.”

“For what to be like that?” He replied.

“For me to be so sad for her,” you looked down because you could feel yourself wanting to cry. You tried to hold back the sniffles, but it was just no use. You put your hands to your face and began crying softly. 

Dettlaff held you tighter.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, “for crying about it.” 

He turned his pale blue eyes to you with a soothing expression and whispered, “cry, and do not apologize for your kindness.”

You inhaled sharply and rested your head on his chest.


	6. Assuage a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt vocalizes his concerns, but not before Regis can smooth him out a little. Dettlaff continues to be Dettlaff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this to be its own chapter. It is on the shorter side. I've also had this idea to depict Geralt in a way that you see most cowboys being depicted, art wise, so the piece I made for this chapter is exactly that.
> 
> CW: lewd language, talk of violence and mention of death.
> 
> NOTE: I enabled anonymous comments! I hadn't realized that it meant non-users when it gave me the option to disable anon comments. Classic first fic blunder? Lol

/\\_~.~_/\

Just outside of Fox Hollow, Regis caught sight of Geralt fastening the girth on Roach’s saddle and placing the bridle bit in her mouth. He headed over to him. 

“I can’t believe you let this happen,” Geralt said, noticing the dark smoke that was Regis appear out of the corner of his eye. 

Through the smoke Regis began to materialize, “Is it so difficult to fathom, Geralt,” He proposed soberly, “that the two of them might actually share an attraction?” 

Geralt bit his lower lip and turned his full attention to the surgeon-barber, “So you did this on purpose?” He shook his head, “I thought you _knew_ better, Regis.” His brows drew down in a frown.

“You mean to ask,” Regis began, “did I purposefully try to give my friend happiness? To allow him peace? Some respite from his _suffering_?”

“Save me the sob story,” he rolled his eyes, but the older vampire continued without interruption. 

“If that is your question,” Regis eyed him before looking off into the distance, “then yes, Geralt. I did. And what of Maina? Was she happy? Being away from this place gave her no joy, we can gather, from the way she avoids speaking of Redania.” His eyes became unfocused, as if he was somewhere else now entirely, “who are we to stop her from finding her happiness?”

Geralt sat down on a large rock, exasperated. “Yeah, only there's a difference between letting someone find happiness and carelessly putting their life in danger.” He sighed, and sat silently for a moment before finding the words. “I know that you owe Dettlaff a great deal and that I can’t understand the complexity of your relationship,” he moved his hand through his hair, “but Maina is a good person, and goofy, and creative when she feels well enough. Do you think Dettlaff could even begin to appreciate those qualities in a person?” Then, an air of accusation, “can he _even be_ lighthearted? He's basically a walking take-caution notice.”

The witcher got back up and paced before mounting Roach.

“Geralt,” he replied flatly, “Dettlaff is nearly three hundred years old. Those qualities in Maina are exactly what he _needs_ in his life. You do not know him like I do,” Regis said, a note of finality in his voice, “and you do not know, nor have seen, him with Maina.” He stirred. “I implore you to have an open mind.”

For a while Geralt rode on, Regis walking next to him, in silence. 

“Fine, but I’m still talking to Maina about it. I at least owe her that.”

/\\_<l>_/\

Dettlaff was off gathering firewood. “It will rain tonight,” he had said, sniffing the air and scanning the surrounding area for the third time before walking to the treeline. You were gazing up at the full moon only a few minutes after he had left when the feeling of simple content washed over you, followed by the sound of hooves. _Roach seems to be in a good mood,_ you thought, and looking up you saw the white haired witcher and the balding vampire approach. Geralt nodded to you. 

“Wanna go for a ride?” he asked. You sighed, knowing that this was inevitable - that you were at some point in time going to have to try to explain how this happened. You shrugged out of Dettlaff’s coat and put it next to your bags. You lifted yourself - or began the struggle of lifting yourself - onto Mers, trying to make it look easier than it was while in front of Geralt. In your peripheral, you saw a smirk form on his face momentarily. _Well,_ you thought, _at least he can still_ laugh _at me._

The two of you slowly made your way in the direction of a large, dying oak tree standing alone on a hill. 

“So,” Geralt began, looking at you. “A _higher vampire?_ ” 

You sighed. “Yes. A higher vampire.”

Geralt’s eyes searched yours for what seemed like a long time. 

“Why, Maina?” he asked. 

_Why?_ It seemed like a silly question. You thought of your homeland, and Toussaint the first months of you being there, wailing into your pillow at night, hurt and confused by actions of those you thought were your family. Then you thought of _that_ first feeling - of him in Beauclair, when you first touched. You remembered him weeping into your shoulder, hurt and confused and confiding in you. Your insides constricted. It was now that you realized you had told him the shame he carried around was _wrong_ and that he was _good._ All your life you had wanted someone to tell you that you weren’t _wrong inside._ Tears were welling up in your eyes and you squeezed them shut. 

Geralt saw this before turning his gaze downwards. 

“It won’t be easy, Maina,” he said. “There are things about vampires -- _higher vampires_ included that you don’t know about. There are things about _Dettlaff_ you don’t know about. I’ve seen him kill people before, Maina. In the blink of an eye and without apology. Is that who you want to spend your life with? You _need_ to seriously consider that question if you choose to continue this... _thing_ with him, because that’s what it will _be,_ Maina. A life-long thing, and only on _your_ end of the bargain.”

Dying...your heart ached at the thought of leaving him to deal with this world alone, again. Could you change it? Could you help him to find the good in people?

“Geralt, I know that you are concerned,” you started, “but I really don’t think Dettlaff would hurt _me_ , if I chose to leave. So the amount of time _I_ spend with him is on _my_ own terms.”

You reached the large tree and dismounted. You were the first to sit at the base of it and stared up through the branches of the dying oak, seeing stars. Tears still wet on your face. Geralt walked over and was surprisingly neutral smelling. 

“How is it,” you said, still considering the stars, “that somehow you smell _better_ after spending a week in jail?” You heard him chuckle. 

“You are _such_ a little ass hole at times,” but you could hear the smile in his voice as he sat down next to you and rested his head against the trunk. 

“So, was that _all_ you had to say?” you asked, “I thought you were going to give me an entire speech.” Geralt looked at you incredulously. 

“Oh, my, god,” He was almost laughing, “un _believable_!” Only after that he stilled, and crossed his arms over his chest. “I just need to know that you understand that what you’re getting yourself into, Maina, is dangerous. Or try to warn you.”

“We can talk about this?” you looked at him, questioningly.

He stared back like you were dumb. 

“Well, _yeah,_ Maina,” he said, “that’s what _I’m trying to do_ …” he put his arm around you. “ _Okay_ , so I was a little heated in Fox Hollow, you can’t blame me for _that_ , but I am _here_ for _you_ .” He shrugged. “So, _shoot,_ vampire lover _._ ”

“Ugh,” you winced, “ _please_ don’t call me that.” But you couldn't help but chuckle. Then you thought about what he had said earlier, about this being _the rest of your life_ kind of thing. "The rest of my life? How can you be so certain he'd even want that?"

“Vampires are intense, Maina. Not all _higher_ vampires are, like Regis, but _Dettlaff?_ He’s _bestial_.” It started to feel like Geralt was coming to accept the situation, for now. “I’m surprised he's managed not to _break you_.” He winked.

“G _ross_ , Geralt,” you replied, _really_ trying not to encourage him by smiling.

“What? You’re with a fucking _vampire_ and I’m not allowed to make jokes about it?” He eyed you. “...Good luck with _that_ .” He chuckled. “He hasn’t tried to _drink_ you, has he?”

Your eyes bulged. “ _What?!”_ You asked. _Did he_ drink _human blood? Currently?_

“Well it _is_ a full moon,” he laughed, “and vampires _are_ known to drink blood…” But then, his smile faded. “I shouldn’t have let this happen,” he said with such remorse. 

“Geralt, it’s oh _-kay,_ ” you rested your head against him reassuringly, “I’m happy.”

You sat and talked about his time in jail, and what it was like for him waking up to the knights of Toussaint asking why he was surrounded by three human corpses. After what seemed both like a long time and hardly any at all, Geralt stood.

“Race you back to camp?” He asked. You rolled your eyes, not making a move. “ _What?_ ” he went on, coolly, “I bet I’ll get back before you even manage to climb up onto your horse.” His expression was that of a kid doing something naughty.

You bolted towards Mers and were jumping up to grab the swell of his saddle when two hands grabbed your waist and pulled you backwards. 

“That’s cheating!” You yelled, stumbling to regain your balance. Geralt was laughing, dashing towards Roach.

You perched yourself atop Mers and kicked _hard_ , flying after the white wolf.

Geralt _barely_ won as you both zipped past camp, and were now rounding back. Mers was _ecstatic._

“I have to get back to Beauclair by the morning,” Geralt told you, bringing Roach in close; he gave you a meaningful look, “I’ll see you at Corvo Bianco _tomorrow._ ” 

Pushing Roach to a gallop, he waved his arm overhead and called goodbye to Regis, then dashed away in the direction of the city. 

With _that_ conversation over, and ending a step above what you thought it could, you felt better. Lighter.

When you got back to camp, you wrapped yourself up in your blanket. Exhausted, you fell asleep to the tune of two vampires deep in conversation, basking in the full moon.

-

In the night you woke from a dreamless sleep to something wet on your head. You could hear the pitter patter of rain. You shivered at the thought of it, but somehow you were still wrapped up cozy and warm. “ _Mmmm...”_ you mumbled, sleepily, and went to gather the blankets up in your hand, but realized that the blankets were Dettlaff’s velvet shirt. One that he was still wearing. You felt his chest expand broadly against your cheek and the arms that you hadn’t realized were around you constrict. ...Then, twitch. 

_Wait,_ you thought, _was he actually_ _sleeping?_

...You had never seen him sleep before. You weren’t even entirely sure that his kind _did_ sleep, but you had been too embarrassed to ask for fear of being rude. You tried to look up at him, but all you were able to see was the outline of his immense jaw and a few poofy garlands of curly black hair around his ear. He was holding on to you _tightly_. You wiggled slightly to try to get a better look at him. He twitched again and pushed his head downwards where the top of your head had been a second ago. Immediately one light gray-blue eye pierced the darkness and found you. His chest expanded again and, still looking at you, shut it, before closing whatever distance you’d managed to create with your wiggling. 

Energy was rolling off of him in waves. 


	7. To the Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “OK - read that contract. Meet me outside. We have to go to the armory, we have to go to the smithy,” he was pacing back and forth. You started counting off the things on your fingers mockingly, “we have to go to the- stop that- lab to get you fixed up, and then, depending on how you’re feeling, we have to deal with this wight.” 
> 
> So...this chapter right HERE. A lot of really important things happen in it. Maina/You undergo permanent changes and Dettlaff finally tells you something/asks you something that has been weighing on him ever since he saved you from a gnarly group of grave robbers. You also get to go on a quest quite 'Fou' ;)...which should be pretty familiar. Geralt and Maina needed someone to spoiler spoiler the spoiler. XD
> 
> This is maybe my favorite chapter so far.  
> Let me know if y'all enjoy it! Thoughts, comments, constructive criticisms welcomed!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See content warnings at the end of the chapter notes because they're essentially spoilers. There isn't any art in this chapter because I'm too giddy about posting to make art for it.

You had never had an issue with illy defined relationships. To you, the details or descriptors were not a priority. You looked at the rich leather breastplate that hung on the armor stand in the corner of your room. You sighed. Regis and Dettlaff had been gone for _two months_ on what had to be some highly secret vampire sabbatical...leaving you _here_ to train with Geralt. You missed Dettlaff. The way you could see him regard you silently out of the corner of your eye, the way you always felt like you were important, the way you felt like you were actually _being seen_ . In all honesty, him making sense to you was incredible, but it didn’t hold a candle how incredible it felt knowing that _you_ made sense to _him._ For the first time in your life you felt like you were really being seen, being understood. 

Geralt had laughed at you when you tried to explain this to him after he asked why you were a little “off” lately. He said that he used to feel that way with Yennefer, sometimes. Called it “the _other_ homesickness”, and told you that you should check with the local djinn. You didn’t get the joke. You _were_ surprised, however, that Yennefer and Geralt had a history, and wondered why they were no longer practicing that. You imagined that he probably still cared for her, seeing as he put up with housing you. Or maybe he was afraid of her? He seemed to do whatever she said...

“Hey!” you heard Geralt call from the dining room, as the sun began peeking its way through your window, “ _this_ came for you!” 

You turned over under your blanket just in time to see the envelope before it hit you in the head.

 _God_ damn _that...ugh,_ you started, _actually, he’s a pretty good shot,_ you thought, and laughed.

“Thanks!” you replied. 

“Well? Did I hit you?” He asked.

“No,” you yelled back, “missed by a mile!” You waited to hear him walk out the main room and into the kitchen, mumbling to himself, before turning your attention to the letter. It was from Yen. 

She had started writing to you, apologizing (briefly) for having taken so long, but mostly asking about your abilities. This would be your third letter from her. You felt like you were a disappointment to her since you didn’t have much to offer. The last thing you had told her about was how you’d felt another living thing read _your_ energy that day in the graveyard before setting off for Fox Hollow. But, since you never had any idea what questions she was going to ask, you never knew what was also the right information to share with her. That alone was making this process move slowly. You grabbed the dagger on your nightstand and opened the letter. 

_Maina,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. In regards to your magic having been found by something of an animalistic nature: it leads me to believe that your magic comes from the Ailma. This is the source that is most popular with druids and bumbling oracles, but I assure you that you can make good use of it. I’ve found some information on druids, not without extensive searching, that explain a similar experience when first meeting an animal counterpart. Some animals can sense Ailma (which is partially why it is thought of as lesser than the strictly human magic source Udmi that sorceresses pull from) and have their own uses for it. They are incredibly rare, however, so I am interested in seeing if this will be the case. Please keep me in the know as you continue to reach out for it and take note of your dreams. I will send you more information as I come by it._

_Toussaint is on my list. I’ll be visiting late summer - thought you should know._

_Yennefer of Vengerberg_

_Oh - Geralt told me you had a strange run in with one of his vampiric lot. Turned you into smoke? Didn’t care to tell me about that ability? I’ll update you when I have answers._

You closed the letter. Geralt was telling Yennefer about you? You scanned the last bit. _It seems he left out some of the finer details, at least._ Having Yennefer help in solving the mystery of why you’re transportable by way of vampire smoke was exciting. This, however, didn’t have you _nearly_ as worked up as the prospect of an animal companion. A familiar? You’d heard stories about them but didn’t believe that they actually existed.

Scanning the letter again, you pondered what “ _take note of your dreams…”_ all implied. So far, every letter from Yennefer seemed to be _very_ lacking in the amount of information she was giving _you._

“Hmmph,” you sighed. _I should be patient. She’s busy, and you’re just a...a-_ you looked at the letter, _an Ailma user. And barely._

You rolled the letter back up and hopped over to the breast plate, the sun was still hugging the horizon as a fresh day began. You pulled the breast plate over your head and sauntered downstairs. Geralt was back out and sitting at the table, reading through his bestiary. You walked by him and into the kitchen, which was very nearly barren. You probably _could_ do something about the state of it, but you were incredibly weary of falling into the position of cook, caretaker, and maid. Geralt never asked or expected you to do any domestic chores, but it didn’t hurt to steer clear from giving him any ideas. You went to the counter drawer and retrieved a knife, unwrapped the Gruyere from the cloth and cut yourself off a large hunk. Geralt had a thing about _tearing_ cheeses. You went to look under the cupboard and found an apple, which you grabbed, and a loaf of bread. _How long has_ this _been here?_ You asked yourself as you looked down at the loaf - green fuzz growing on it. You walked back out to the dining room. 

“Mold alert,” you announced, tossing the bread on the table. 

“Ohh, _thank god_ you found my missing _loaf!_ ” Geralt said as he tossed it off the table. You looked over his shoulder at the bestiary he had open.

“What's a,” you cocked your head and bent down further to read the text, “a wight?” 

You sat down across Geralt and grabbed the butter in the middle of the table. Beams of morning sunlight creeping through the east windows. 

“Our contract for today,” he replied, pushing a piece of paper towards you, not looking up. “Regis wanted me to take care of this awhile back. Also,” he continued, “I’ve been talking to Yen,” 

“So I’ve gathered,” you interrupted.

“...and she says that you could probably go through the same mutations as I did and survive.” He ended.

You spat out your juice, “put me through the fucking _trial of the grasses?_ Are you _insane?”_

He looked up from his bestiary, “No,” then kept reading.

“Geralt!” you tossed a chunk of your cheese at him. 

“Watch it,” he eyed you.

“What. Do. You. _Mean?_ ” you asked, annunciating each syllable.

He sighed as if you were causing him a _great_ inconvenience. God he was _infuriating_ sometimes. “There’s a place in Toussaint where I enhanced my mutations. No offense, but you’re like, _already_ mutated, so I asked Yennefer if I could stick you into the mutation device. She said that it should work.” 

“What do you mean,” you looked at him, quizzically, “ _already_ mutated?” 

“Well, you’re certainly not _just human_.” He looked at you, then, looked away, “actually, Yennefer should be the one to explain all of this to you, but,” he shrugged, “for now just take my word for it.” 

“But,” you started, “what if something goes wrong?”

“If something goes wrong,” Geralt’s eyes locked onto yours, “then my ass is going to have a vampire problem. A _big_ one.” 

The thought of Dettlaff made you smile, a tingling sensation encapsulated your toes.

“I’m willing to risk that, because I’m confident it will work.” Geralt said. “I’ve gone over the notes I gathered from the lab when I first underwent them... _Yen_ has gone over them. This will work, Maina.” 

He smiled. 

“And it’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asked. You sighed. It _was._ You were thankful that he was one to listen. You were kind of getting sick of him being right all the time. In all honesty, it was incredibly thoughtful of him to go through the trouble of researching this, corresponding with Yen and getting her take on it. He knew that you were searching for a greater purpose in life, and these mutations could help give you more freedom. You never felt like much help on contracts, even if you knew how to use a sword, now. Well, you were _OK_ at it. Geralt was still regarding you. 

“Yes,” you replied, “it _is_ what I want.” You thought for a second. “Will I live longer?”

Geralt stopped chewing the piece of cheese you’d thrown at him and swallowed, “Hopefully.” 

“Hopefully?” you asked. He shrugged. 

“I mean,” looked back to his bestiary, “who wouldn’t want to live longer?” he asked not very convincingly. You frowned. You could think of two who didn’t. He closed the bestiary. “OK - read that contract. Meet me outside. We have to go to the armory, we have to go to the smithy,” he was pacing back and forth. You started counting off the things on your fingers mockingly, “we have to go to the- stop that- lab to get you fixed up, and then, depending on how you’re feeling, we have to deal with this wight.” 

He looked around the dining room. 

“Remind me to clean,” he added.

-

It was a clear, beautiful day in Toussaint. The sun was shining, your belly was full, Geralt was in a good mood, you felt like at any moment you were going to puke from the nerves that grew with every second you got closer to being _mutated_ , the list went on. Both Roach and Mers whinnied at their respective hitching posts outside on the street below. Normally, people weren’t allowed on the second story of this particular armory, but apparently Geralt had done the owner some favor once upon a time. So here the two of you sat. You looked down at the sword you had just acquired. A _silver_ sword. A surprise gift from Geralt. It was incredibly sharp, the hilt with the left handed guard was a beautiful deep navy with deep blood red trim. It was gorgeous. It was _lethal._

“Promise me you won’t kill yourself with that…” Geralt whispered, leaned over, in your ear. 

“Will you shut up for one-” you began whispering back when the armorer popped back out with your armor. 

“Let’s see if this fits.” The short, stout, mastercraft said, motioning to the fitting room. 

You grabbed the gear and walked behind the room divider. _It would be nice if they would go downstairs,_ you thought, shyly. _And where am I supposed to put the clothes I have on now?_ You threw them on the floor. 

“And here is the other,” the armorer said as yet _another_ set of weird, fortified garments were pushed under the divider. 

“Uhh, Geralt,” you called, fitting the leather straps of your outer armor over your shoulders and across your chest, Dettlaff’s thin leather breastplate still in place underneath, “exactly _how_ much danger are you planning on putting me in?” 

After at least an hour of fitting, you were all set, literally. Two sets of armor. Both made to work with your already fancy leather breastplate. You looked at yourself in the mirror, deep navy blue fabric with dark scarlet stitching. You looked _good._

“Not bad, right?” Geralt asked as you left Beauclair. You could have kissed him right on the cheek. You were _ecstatic._ You felt like you could do anything. 

...except for, that is, what you were just about to do. You rode along the southeastern shore of the lazily flowing Sansretour. It looked so calm...exactly the opposite of how you were feeling at this very moment. You were starting to breath heavily. 

_Get it together, Maina._

You hitched up your horses in the brush along the river and followed the witcher to the shore line. 

“Be right back,” he said to you before jumping in headfirst, fully clothed. _Great._

A drowner broke the surface, you made for your sword but quickly realized it was dead. Another popped up after that, and another. Soon enough there were a total of eight dead drowners floating on the river’s surface in front of you. Geralt’s head popped up the last.

“Okay,” he said, “come on in!” You didn’t know there would be swimming. You also were deathly afraid of river currents. You looked at your feet, embarrassed. 

Geralt looked at you incredulously.

“You don’t know how to _swim?!_ ” he asked. It wasn’t fair. How did he know how to do seemingly everything? You were embarrassed. You were sick of feeling like you couldn’t contribute. You were _ready_ to get these mutations underway. 

Geralt was swimming over, and to his credit, didn’t give you any more shit. You were pretty certain he realized that he’d actually hurt your feelings, because he shrugged lightly, “It’s no big deal,” he said, “I”ll teach you, sometime. But for now…” he scooped you up, “just hold on and hold your breath.”

Closing your eyes, you held on, and held your breath. 

-

Your head broke the surface - or, _some_ surface. For a moment it felt like you were spinning, your ears rang and then...you opened your eyes. You were in a cave...or a lair of some sort. It was dank. You heard a _swishing_ behind you and over Geralt’s shoulder saw that you had just come from a portal. 

“Geralt,” you wriggled, he shivered, opening his eyes.

“Ugh,” he said, then turned his head to you, “I _hate_ portals.” 

You laughed as he set you down on your feet. _That_ was certainly a new development. “So…which way?” You asked. 

“Follow me,” he said, “we have to go through another portal, then we’ll be there.” 

The room the both of you stood in was absolutely dank. Geralt went around casting igni to light the candles, and afterwards you almost wished he hadn’t. There were cages with human remains long dead, tools for poking, prodding, and dismembering. In the corner there was a large contraption and next to it, a large metal object resembling an iron maiden. You moaned. 

“Are you telling me I need to get into _that_ thing?” you asked. 

“You can do this, Maina.” He said, walking over to the contraption next to the iron maiden looking device. You followed him. 

Looking at it you took a deep breath, then looked to Geralt. He nodded at you reassuringly. Suddenly you felt calm. 

You stepped towards the contraption.

“Wait,” Geralt stopped you. 

“What?” you asked.

“You…” he closed his mouth. “Fuck.” He made a disgruntled noise. “You have to take off your armor.”

You looked at your armor, then to the contraption, then back to Geralt. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah,” he started, “sorry about that. Kinda forgot, but the machine can melt cloth. I used it wearing my small clothes and,” he shrugged, “wasn’t comfortable.”

“Oh-kay.” you said as Geralt turned around. “Promise you won’t peek.” 

“Are you serious?” He asked, nearly turning around before you ‘ah, ah, eh’d’ him. “ _Yes_ , I _promise_ I won’t look. Not until you're in the machine anyway, fair?”

“Fair,” you replied, rolling your eyes, already halfway undressed. You turned around and looked at the machine one last time. “Okay, Geralt?” 

“ _Y_ es?” he said with a tone.

“I’m going in.” 

“You’ll do great.” he assured you. 

You stepped into the copper machine. 

It was tight, and cold to the touch. Your feet were freezing. You were pretty certain that this was the worst time to realize you had claustrophobia. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, thinking of wide open spaces. You opened them and saw through the small glass window in the head of the machine Geralt gave you a thumbs up, you nodded your head yes and he turned on the machine. 

It was fine. A few fumes started to pour into the black space. You couldn’t move your head to look around, really. You realized with panic that it was beginning to feel like there wasn’t enough air. You were doing your best not to heave, and that was proving difficult. You looked to Geralt who gave you another thumbs up. He looked a little apprehensive, but confident. You relaxed a little, but your vision was blurring. Geralt looked like he was getting further and further away…

You knew the door had opened because you fell out of it and onto the floor with a thud. You felt so weak...like your bones were brittle and close to _breaking._ Your organs were on fire, your vision kept going in and out and you didn’t feel _there._ You tried to focus. 

“Here,” Geralt said, kneeling next to you, he handed you a bottle with a small cork stopper. “You can drink this, now. Should help with the pain in your skull, at least.”

You didn’t need convincing, he popped off the sopper for you, and you gulped it down. “Hm.”

“What?” he asked. 

“It actually didn’t taste bad,” you said, then fell back onto your back. You weren’t so certain this had worked. “I’m not so certain this worked.”

He barked out a laugh and looked down at you. “No? You’re alive, Maina. It worked.”  
Your eyes bulged, “You didn’t tell me I was at _risk of dying._ ” 

“Well, duh,” he walked over to your armor, “you wouldn’t have gotten in it if I had.”

Your head was starting to feel a little better. He handed you your armor. You looked down at yourself, completely in the nude. “I forgot about that.” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Can you dress yourself?”

You thought about it for a second…

“I mean, realistically…” you attempted to sit up, but ended up more so just _thinking_ about sitting up and instead did some weird roll over. You sighed, now lying sideways on the floor, you looked up at him. “No.”

“Here,” he said, lifting you up and, “shit. Hard to find a chair here that isn’t covered in blood.” 

“I don’t care,” you whined. “I feel like shit and I’m cold.”

“Yes, you do care,” he sat you back down, took off his jacket, put it on the closest chair and sat you in it.

Your head was spinning less than it was a moment ago, but your body was in a bad state. At least it felt like it was. You couldn’t keep your head up, hardly, and when you tried, it rolled back. You shrugged it onto your left shoulder, looking at everything crookedly. 

Geralt got your pants over your knees and picked you up again to finish getting them around your waist. 

“Jesus,” he said, “this would be easier if you'd lose a few pounds of straight _ass_.”

You started to laugh, but then winced in pain. 

“Only if I get to donate it to _you_ ,” you tried to let him know that you were looking in the direction of his butt, but your head wasn’t responding the way you wanted it to. 

“It _has_ been a little lackluster lately…” he sighed, trying to figure out which of your arms to put through your sleeves first, “think that’s why I’m still single?”

“Definitely,” you stared up at the ceiling as your left hand went through the fabric. “Was it this bad for you?”

He moved onto your right, “actually it might have been worse,” he bunched up the shirt’s neck, “here,” he took your head and gently pushed it through the collar. “Honestly, I’m still not sure how long I was out cold on the floor for.” 

“Really?” you asked, uncertain. He lifted your torso from the chair and pulled your shirt all the way down, then started on your socks and boots. 

“ _Yes,_ ” he replied, “felt like I was going to die.” He eyed you, “from what it looks like, you’re feeling the same way, too?” 

You nodded. Both boots on your feet. 

“Shit. Well, it might wear off in an hour or two,” he looked down at the parchment that had the directions to the wight’s house, then back to you. “Alright, let’s go.”

You made it to the room with the portal into the Sansretour in Toussaint. “I think maybe we should stay here for awhile, until you feel better.” 

“Yeah, I don’t really feel like being dunked in water,” you replied. 

He smiled slightly and set you down on the cot in the room. “Actually, I stayed in this bed until _I_ felt better…”

“You mean to say,” you started to slump over and he put a hand under you to make it graceful, “that the portal scared you in your fragile state.”

“Ah,” he said, “just as the prospect of not being able to swim has scared you in yours.” 

“I’m tired,” you yawned.

“You can sleep,” he replied. 

You tried to roll over. “I’m _cold_.” 

“Yeah,” he sighed, “that’s certainly a thing.” He laid down next to you, casually. He took off his jacket, again, and laid it over you. “Better?”

“Yes,” you closed your eyes, feeling like you wouldn’t be able to stay awake much longer, “thanks, Geralt.” You heard him chuckle. 

You woke up to your head feeling much, _much_ better. Your body, too. It was lighter in the dark room. Maybe not _lighter_ , exactly. The shadows weren’t so dark. You could see what they were trying to conceal. 

“Geralt!” you yelled, then realized that he was laying curled up in a ball right next to you, you started nudging him, “I think it worked!”

“I _know,_ ” he said, sitting up, sleepily, he yawned. 

“I can _see!_ ” you yelled. 

“I _know,_ ” he replied. 

“The shadows, they’re not so,” you pointed to a shadow and...

“I _know_.” He stood up, smiling slightly.

He brushed off his pants.

“Need me to carry you through?” he asked. 

“Maybe, just in case.” 

-

Geralt swam you up to the shore until you could reach the bottom. “Thanks,” you said as he let you down. The sun was still nearly directly above you.

“How is it still only midday?” you asked him. 

“Eh,” he shrugged, “You were only asleep for like, ten minutes.” 

“ _What?!”_ you asked. That was _crazy_ . You felt so... _different_ than before. You thought it had been an entire _day_ , even.

He chuckled and, shaking his head to himself, went to untie the horses. Seeing as you _clearly_ were a little over zealous he asked, “Are you going to be able to come along and help with this Wight? Or are you a little too out of your element right now?”

You cocked your head at him. 

“Are you going to be reckless?” he asked, “unfocused?”

He was right. You were pretty jazzed right now...but who could blame you?!

“Actually I think going might be good for me,” you offered, “it could sober me up, a little.”

He looked at, still uncertain, but brought Mers to you anyway. You hugged him. He patted your head. “Yeah, yeah. I’m great. I know.”

/\\_~.~_/\

Dettlaff and Regis left the fortress protruding the face of the Blue Mountains, on the border of Angreen and Lyria. There had been a similar laboratory on human husbandry that higher vampires had established some odd hundred years ago. The vampire caretaker, or Dar Angul enthusiast (as Regis would refer to him as), that stayed there had been helpful. Dettlaff, though, had regarded him with an air of disgust, Regis noted. 

The mountain air was thin and clear and crisp. Nothing like the crowded market of Beauclair in the dead summer heat and humidity. The two vampires breathed it in, hardly affected by the altitude. Dettlaff looked out into the distance, down the mountains in the direction of the ocean, too far away to see. He closed his eyes. 

“Do you wish to talk to her?” Regis asked. Nodding his head in the direction of the downsloping path. “We really shouldn’t waste too much of Chauvelle’s time,” he began, “I’d rather him just _forget_ about us after we left, yes?”

The younger vampire nodded. Regis could tell that his companion had not been enjoying this trip at all, and he could hardly blame him for it. Yes, the news was overwhelmingly positive, at least for their intents, but it had been born of something sinister. 

This research into why Maina was able to be moved by smoke had brought Regis to look into the history of Tesham Mutna and their experiments on human husbandry. He had found that the genetic makeup of the humans there had been, in a way, altered. He had given Dettlaff his conclusion that Maina must be a descendent from the human’s _of_ Tesham Mutna husbandry at their camp in Fox Hollow, knowing full well that this would mean Dettlaff had to search further into the matter. 

Regis felt for the note in his pocket depicting his findings. He had amended it since Dettlaff returned it to him, he remembered the expressions on the younger vampire's face as he read through it. Surprise, aw, hope...then agony. Regis was one to believe in Maina, and tried to comfort Dettlaff that his worry was for not. 

Dettlaff would have to tell her when they returned, Regis had explained to his friend. If he desired this, and it was obvious he did, he should express it. He tried to explain to his friend that if she doesn’t want this, then it is better to know sooner than later, for both their sakes. 

So, it was on this mountainside that Regis called Dettlaff to his attention. 

“Well?” the older vampire asked, “If you want her view on it, this is obviously the most opportune time to get it. Personally I don’t think it is necessary. If Maina ends up wanting this, her experience would vary greatly.” 

Dettlaff looked at the older vampire, but didn’t move. Regis knew his friend to be sensitive - more sensitive than the world took notice of. He believed this was because of his intimidating nature or strength. Apart from the Unseen Elders, Dettlaff was as strong a higher vampire as they came. Stronger, in fact, than any Regis had ever known. It made people fear him, fear his temper, which Regis knew came from him being afraid or hurt.

And Detlaff’s greatest fear, whether he was aware of it or not, was that the fear of others was true. That he _was_ a monster. It was now Regis, who looked out at the expansive landscape. He remembered there being a point in time in his life that looking out at this would have been a comfort, making him feel small in the grander scheme of life. It didn’t at this moment. 

“Would you like me to go _for_ you?” Regis asked.

“No,” Dettlaff said, firmly, at his friend. And walked down the slope in through the door on the face of the mountain, followed by Regis. The door closed with a low clank. The room was small, and dark. The two could see fine, but Regis went and lit several candles on the table. Dettlaff nodded to him for doing so. They heard the sound of something hiss. It came from a wall of rock. Chains were rattling. 

“An illusion,” Regis said, eyeing Dettlaff. They walked through the wall. 

On the other side light came through the illusion from the candles Regis had lit and illuminated a small cage. In it, what appeared to be a young human woman, naked and chained to the wall, her belly round and taut. She hissed again, rattling the chains. In the cage there was a bowl of food and opening to pass the food through. On the table there was a siphon and a container of blood. Dettlaff growled. 

The feral human woman hissed again in their direction. Her eyes were glazed over and milky, as if they had forgotten their purpose in the many years they sat in darkness. Blinded. Regis was appalled, but looked at Dettlaff and put a hand on him, for he was _shaking_.

“In the dark,” he murmured, his shaking growing deeper. “He leaves her here in the dark.” 

Regis looked at him, “We cannot undo what has been done,” he looked at the woman, “Hello.” 

Her head snapped in the direction of Regis and tried to move her arms. She was able to move the chains and Dettlaff saw the large weight on the ground lift momentarily, before her hand snapped back to the wall. 

“She is strong,” Dettlaff stated. His nerves calming for a moment. 

“Chauvelle mentioned she was,” he looked at her up and down, “her body looks healthy after all this time.” 

Dettlaff rumbled and said simply “do not appraise her like some _animal._ ” 

But that had been exactly what they had come in here to do, Regis thought. Though, maybe the other vampire wasn’t as certain as to why he came in. He was nearly quaking. Claws growing and he made for the cage.

“You cannot kill her, Dettlaf,” Regis said, “or Chauvelle will be _most_ upset.” His friend turned to him almost in a challenging way, “and we’ve asked too many _telling_ questions.” 

Dettlaff was fully in his transitional phase, now, he snarled, and looking remorsefully at the woman in the cage, whispered, “I am sorry.”

Then, he turned into smoke and disappeared. 

Regis took a look at Chauvelle’s notes on the desk. If he had been keeping track correctly, this woman was older than Dettlaff himself. A little over what had to be three hundred years old. He looked at the woman again, afraid and alone, before taking his leave. 

On the mountainside Dettlaff waited for Regis to return from having a few parting words with the vampire caretaker of Dar Angul. He was sick of this place. These _places_ where human life was treated with such overwhelming disregard. _Any_ life being treated with such little regard was more often than not painful for him to experience. Somewhere hidden deep within that irreverence reminded him of his mother and how she’d abandoned him. He wanted to be back with Maina, smelling her softness and seeing her look at him. If the vampire could live the rest of his life with those human eyes on him, drinking him in without fear, but with wanting, _desire_ , he would. Those eyes when he first confided in her did not betray him. They had melted him. How could this human have such power over him. How could he yearn for that more than anything else. The dark haired vampire stirred as the strong feeling of desire rippled through his body. A desire stronger than he’d ever known. He was both calm and aroused, excited and at ease. Dettlaff’s chest expanded heavily as he drew in breath.

Regis reappeared by his side.

“Let us get out of this place,” he began, “I could use a glass of Toussaint’s best wine.”

/\\_<l>_/\

  
  


You were on your way to the estate where the Wight was living. Trotting along without urgency. 

“...Regis said this Wight has been at the Trastamara hunting cottage for over fifty years,” he was saying as you rode on. Over the trees, further in the distance you thought you saw castle ruins. 

“What’s _that?_ ” You asked, interrupting. Geralt stopped talking and looked in the directions your finger was pointing.

“ _That_ is Tesham Mutna,” he replied. 

_Tesham Mutna_... where had you heard that name before? It was there, in your memory, but you couldn’t place why. 

“What is it?” you asked. 

Geralt fingered his chin with thumb and forefinger, “That might be something for Regis or your…” he shivered, “for one of _them,_ to explain to you.”

You cocked your head at him before looking back at the ruins atop the hill. _Tesham Mutna._

Upon entering a woods, a slight bit of panic was filling you and you noticed that it was Mers’. “It’s okay,” you cooed, “it’s okay.” Fog was pooling on the ground the further in you went. 

“We should be close, now.” Geralt said, and eyed your sword, meaningfully. Out of the corner of your an eye a large black shape shifted in the bushes. You snapped your head towards it...you could _feel_ it. Mers was looking in its direction, too, but instead of feeling _more_ panicked, the emotion that swelled from his was one of minor comfort. 

_Well that’s interesting._ You were thinking as you looked back at where the black shape had been, disappearing behind the brush. The two of you quickened your pace. “I’d like to get this over with,” he said. 

“Yeah, me too.” you replied. 

“Oh, is that _Wight_?” he asked you. A smile creeping at the corners of his mouth. You started laughing. 

“Ohh my lord, did you really just set yourself up for that pun?” you asked him as he chuckled to himself. 

“It should be Wight around here…” he said as the two of you reached a bend in the trail. 

“Okay, Geralt, I’m going to start gagging if you keep that u-”

You were interrupted by the sound of barking. Barking that was coming from multiple sources, you looked to Geralt and he slapped the back of Mers’ ass, propelling him into a canter. He followed with Roach. 

“If you start getting any trouble from them, run for the cottage,” he said. You looked around, the barking getting louder.

“What _are_ they?” you asked. 

But Geralt didn’t have time to answer. Through the trees, burst several very large dogs, who barely...were they dogs? They were...ghosts dogs?

“Barghests!” Geralt yelled as his silver sword ripped through one. 

Mers reared up and you unsheathed your own silver, and it felt good. 

You slashed through the first that jumped at you, then the next. You both rode towards the building atop the grounds’ hill through the trees. Mers was _really_ starting to panic. Geralt jumped off roach and threw Yrden down on the ground where you went and dismounted. You had never dismounted so easily. 

Everything seemed like it was moving at only a fraction of the pace it should be, like time had been slowing. One of the beasts clasped down on your arm before you could manage to swing at it. You tried to shake it off, but its jaws wouldn’t give. The look in its eye foul; you couldn’t feel its emotions. You couldn’t read it. You went to punch it square in its face when suddenly it let go, coughing and puking. You looked down at your arm and saw that your blood was black like tar. It felt _good._ You leapt at the spectre and drove your sword through it, ending it instantly. 

You looked back at Geralt, who was being overwhelmed. You rolled towards him with surprising ease, covering more distance than you had been expected and slashed through the legs of a Barghest, rendering it useless. You were just standing up when something dug into your neck and started pulling you backwards.

You nearly yelled out because of the pain but it subsided quickly, somehow, though the fangs were still deep in your skin. You relaxed your body and let your head roll before reaching over it and grabbing the beast; it let go momentarily and you kicked your legs up and over you so that you were now on top of it. You finished it off. 

“Not bad,” you heard Geralt say. You looked up to see him surrounded by several more Bargest corpses, slowly vanishing into the ether. It was impressive. 

You felt time slowly begin to quicken it’s pace back to normal. You looked down at your arm and saw that your blood was red again. You cocked your head. 

“It’s called Black Blood,” Geralt explained. “Honestly, I didn’t think that your body was going to be receptive to _that_ particular mutation. He smiled, “but I’m glad to see that was.”

“Why is it red now?” you asked as Geralt began walking around the estates front patio, looking into the windows and checking under objects, obviously looking for something. 

“It only turns black when you’re frightened or in a fight,” he replied, picking something up from beneath their fallen mailbox. “Aha!”

You looked down at your own arm in wonder. You checked the rest of yourself over and were surprised to see that your deep blue armor was completely intact. A sense of pride filled you and you began to smile. 

“What’s that?” you asked, pointing to some writing on the wall. It was chicken scratch. Geralt was unlocking the door with the key he’d found. 

“A curse,” he said over his shoulder, stepping inside. You followed. His voice dropped to a whisper, “a peculiar one. It indicates that we have to find a spoon.”

You both looked around at the inside of the cottages first floor, it was absolutely _littered_ with spoons. There must have been a hundred of them in the entry way and kitchen _alone._

“...the _right_ spoon.” He added with a frown. You looked at each other, then to spoons. You started looking. 

“Anything particular about this spoon I should be looking for?” you asked, on your knees looking through the clutter, still whispering. “And where is this Wight?”

“The Wight shouldn’t show itself until dark,” Geralt whispered back, “as far as the spoon is concerned...I think it doubles as a _key_.” He walked into the living room, examining spoons as he went. You threw down the one you were holding back into the pile. 

“A _spoon-key?_ ” You asked after him, standing up, “what is that even supposed to look like…” 

You walked into the living room where he was standing and stopped. There at a table, were several corpses positioned as if they had been sharing a meal. You gagged. The smell was _awful_ . The smell was _so strong._ Geralt turned back to you and whispered, “you don’t have to be in here...go check the kitchen and give your new nose a break.”

You touched your face stupidly before you realized he was referring to your sense of smell. He arched a brow at you, and realizing what you must have thought stifled a cackle before his expression changed and he began examining the bodies. 

You tiptoed to the kitchen, which didn’t smell _much_ better, and started looking through the spoons. On the oven lay a blood soaked book. You began pushing it aside when you realized it was a _journal_. 

It felt like your heart had stopped. Reaching for it you saw your hand tremble. What insight into the life of a monster would this have. 

“Hey,” Geralt said, now beside you, he snatched the journal from underneath your hand, “I can read that.”

“Fine.” you replied. Looking at him skimming the pages. You cleared your throat. He looked at you. You tried to include your sass in your whisper, “Care to share with the class?”

He was frowning. He handed you the journal, opened to the last entry, and continued searching for the spoon.

It read:

“ _For a few days now I've been having dizzy spells. I've never experienced anything like this before. If it carries on, although I can't stand witchcraft and sorcery, I'll have to visit a herbalist._

_The dizziness has not gone away. Worst of all, it's been joined by pain, so strong that at times I cannot see._

_I've been to the herbalist. A repulsive old crone looked at me like she had seen a monster. She gave me some cursed mixture that I have to drink twice a day. It's not helping at all._

_Today, like everyday, I looked in the mirror and I was lost for words. I usually check that I don't have any wrinkles or bags under my eyes, but today... There are no wrinkles, but I'd rather that there were. I have hair growing on my breasts. It's horrible. It's got to be because of those damned herbs..._

_I went to the herbalist to smash her face in, but her chambers were empty. She must have known what would happen to me and legged it._

_My family is starting to suspect something, although I am cutting the hair back, which is growing back faster and faster..._

_I've tried to put the idea out of my head, but I can't hold it back any longer. Maybe it wasn't the herbs that have led to this, but a curse placed upon me by an old beggar whom I had to chase off one time. I have to find out. I want to hire someone who can find the herbalist._

_I cannot think and it is getting hard to write._

_Loneliness. No family..._

_Eat. I want to eat. Not a good spoon. Empty spoons._

_Nothing. Eat. It hurts..._

_Mirror. Lies. No._

_Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa”_

You snapped the journal shut. Tears were in your eyes. It occured to you that you had never asked Geralt _how_ the two of you were going to _‘take care of’_ this Wight. You didn’t want to hurt it. You didn’t want it to come to that. Visions of a dead woman who had been the Striga filled your head, remembering how it was you who had wanted to lure it to Fox Hollow instead of lifting the curse. Guilt welled in your belly. You wiped your eyes and saw that Geralt had disappeared. 

You found him in a room with a large pot, pocketing a key shaped spoon. 

“What now?” you asked. He turned to you, folding his arms. 

“We try to lift the curse, of course.” He replied. You relaxed and for a moment silently appreciated Geralt for being the type of person...the type of witcher he was. 

“How?” you asked. You did not like the look of his grin.

Two hours. _Two whole hours_ you two had been crouched in a cabinet in the corner of the room. Geralt seemed to be in some sort of weird state of zen, or maybe _you_ were just getting more and more agitated with the situation. You shifted your weight onto your other leg, again.

“You’re fid-get- _ting…”_ he commented in a quiet, sing-songy voice. You huffed.

“Well _of course_ I am!” you whispered, loudly, “We’ve been stuck in this cabinet since late afternoon and my legs are falling asleep!” 

“Would you rather be stuck in _that_ cupboard?” he asked, nodding at the other corner of the room through one of the cracks in the cabinet. 

You pouted, slightly, and moved your head so that you could look through the crack at the cauldron, “I can’t believe she cooks with that thing.” You shivered. 

Then, a huffing noise came. It sounded like the mumblings of a crazy beggar. It reminded you of walking the streets of the wartorn north. You both went still and silent. Through the doorway, hunched over, came a massive, dark figure. It was tall and gangly. It’s teeth were on the wrong side of its mouth, it looked like. It’s face looked permanently surprised. It started a fire under the cauldron, ran out of the room and came back with what had to have been ingredients. 

When it was finished, it went to sit down. Geralt nudged you, and held up three fingers. 3...2...1…

The two of you opened the door of the cabinet. The Wight screeched and lunged backyards. Geralt put his hands up and explained with his hands that he wanted to eat. 

“Eat,” he said calmly, “we want to eat with you.”

The Wight was still flopping its limbs around, hitting tankards off the counter and smacking down a chair next to the table. Geralt side-eyed you, asking you to make the eating motion with your hands, too. 

“Oh,” you jumped, and started pretending that you were spooning food into your mouth, slowly. 

“See,” Geralt said, walking to the table...you followed his lead. The Wight was settling down. “We want to _eat with you._ ” 

The two of you sat down and the Wight joined you. You looked at the cauldron. The Wight seemed to realize itself and went to get you food. After the three of you had _something_ in your bowls, the Wight sat and lifted a spoon. 

“ _No!_ ” Geralt interjected, startling the Wight. “I mean, let’s eat _without_ the spoons.” He dropped his. 

You dropped yours. 

The Wight looked hesitantly at you both, but then followed suit. It looked at you eagerly. Holding your breath as best as you could, _Geralt really picked a great first mission to test out my ‘new nose’_ , and took a sip from the bowl. You gagged. It was _awful,_ but you managed to swallow it. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Geralt do the same. Immediately afterwards the Wight upended their bowl and finished it in one gulp. 

There was a moment where the three of you sat silently, then the Wight upended the table in front of you with an ear piercing shriek and fled from the room, clutching its throat in its hand. 

“Shit,” Geralt said, and ran after it. You followed him out the front door of the cottage. He was tracking it, quickly, and you followed. Suddenly you heard more barking. “Shit.” Geralt said again. 

“You track,” you said, drawing your sword, “I’ll,” a Barghest flew towards you and you stuck it like a pig. Geralt nodded. 

Two more ran up to you, and you fended them off as together you moved your way towards the stone fence that ran along the path from the cottage. Piercing the rib cage of the last Barghest, you sheathed your sword and saw Geralt kneeling down next to a very old woman, who was weeping heavily. 

“It’s okay,” he was saying in a gentle tone, “we’re going to get you out of here.” 

The woman looked up at you then put her face in her hands again. Geralt gave you a meaningful look and you thought it might mean to go get the horses. 

When you came back, Geralt was helping the woman stand up. He walked to Roach, untied a blanket behind her saddle and wrapped it around the frail woman. He rubbed her arms assuredly. 

“This is Maina,” he said nodding to you, “she’s going to help you get up onto my horse.” He mounted Roach and you hoisted the frail woman up so that he was holding her in front of him, then you saddled up on Mers. 

Lifting the woman above your shoulders was easier than you were expecting. You looked out into the night and smiled, finally being able to see. 

-

You reached Corvo Bianco and stabled your horses. Geralt went and took Marlene to Barnabus-Basil’s living quarters and instructed him to care for her. Meanwhile you grabbed your clothes from this morning out of your saddlebag and went to wash in the stream. It was cold, but you were enjoying the night air. You had just finished dressing back in your casual wear when Geralt came back out of Basil’s quarters looking a little unsettled. 

“Apparently we have visitors inside.” he said, exasperated. 

You looked around, the lack of horses led you to believe that it was Regis and Dettlaff. 

You ran to the door to Corvo Biaco, throwing it open. Regis was lounging lazily at the table and Dettlaff was pacing back and forth. He turned and looked at you apprehensively, stopping cold in his tracks. 

“Dettlaff!” you yelled, elated. Without thinking you ran and jumped into him. He opened his arms and caught you. You kissed his face. You were tingling all over and not sure how much of it was you and how much of it was him. You looked up after having shoved your face in his shoulder and realized that you were outside, now. He squeezed you back. You saw Geralt walk by and into the house, rolling his eyes at you as he went. 

“I missed you,” you told him. Your eyes scanned his, he closed them, then, and squeezed you harder. 

“We must speak, Maina,” he said into your shoulder.

“About what?” you asked. 

“I…” he lifted his face from your body and looked away. “Not here.” 

“May I?” he asked you. You nodded.

“Yes, anything.” 

You closed your eyes. When you opened them, you were in an elaborately decorated room, with a view. You noticed that your head did not hurt, now. Even after traveling as smoke. You wondered to yourself if it had anything to do with your new mutations. You wondered if Dettlaff could tell. 

“Where are we?” You asked the dark haired vampire staring out the window, but he did not turn fully to you. He seemed more vibrant, now. Not that anything about him had changed, honestly, your vision had just gotten _better_ since this afternoon. 

“At a friend’s,” he said. You looked around again, it was _gorgeous_. “She is out of Toussaint, and asked me to check in here.” He looked out the window. “She owns the orphanage between Beauclair and Corvo Bianco.

Your jaw dropped. You were in _her_ house? _That mansion?_ You had asked Geralt about the precipitous gate enclosing where you sat right _now_ so many times before while in Beauclair. The _heart_ of Beauclair. Geralt had told you about how beautiful it was inside...but _this?_ You were suddenly fairly giddy, and slightly ashamed to be so. It _was_ just money. Still, your thoughts were racing until your eyes met his. They were circled darkly, like he hadn’t gotten much rest while he was away, and he wasn’t maintaining eye contact. He looked so weary.

“What’s wrong, Dettlaff?” you said, your voice faltering. You hated seeing him like this. It _physically_ hurt in your chest. Were you misunderstanding? “Have I done something?” 

He snapped out of his thoughts, “No,” he reassured you and began walking over to you, then stopped. 

“Please,” you motioned. “Please be close to me,” you were nearly pleading. You were worried about what it was he had to say. 

He sat next to you, and went to get up again but you caught his arm with your hand. He looked down at you, “forgive me,” he said, “it is...difficult to find the words when I am near you.” He walked to the table and drew a deep breath. “I am much older than you, Maina.” 

You _really_ didn't know where this was going.

“I am much older than you and I do not want to be without you, now.” he said, the back of his hair rustling in the breeze. You saw his hand begin to ball in and out of a fist, squeezing it.

“I want to be with you, too.” you said simply, happily. “I won’t leave you, Dettlaff.”

You saw his hand ball up in a fist again, only he didn’t relax it this time. 

“That is where you are wrong, Maina,” you thought you heard his voice crack. His posture informed you he was about to say something else but... He relaxed his fists and placed his hands on the window frame.

“Dettlaff?” you asked. 

“You will die, Maina,” his voice _did_ crack. He was starting to shake, his breathing getting shallower and quicker. _Crreeeerrk._ You looked as his hands crushed the wooden windowsill. You thought you might cry. 

“Dettlaff,” you said, making to go to him again.

“No,” he said, and motioned to the maroon velvet upholstered chair. “I must finish.” 

You sat back down. 

“Do you,” he began, then stopped. He ran a hand through his hair. “Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes,” you replied, looking into his eyes imploringly, “of course.” 

“Then I...there might be a way for you to live longer, Maina.” he said. He relaxed, marginally. It seemed he had finally found the words. Gotten to the main point. You relaxed too, but then you felt him tense, again. “Would you want that?”

Your insides were burning. Had this been why he had left Toussaint? To look into a way for you to be with him for longer? You looked into his shining blue grey eyes and...he was _so_ beautiful. “Of _course_ , Dettlaff.” 

His breathing quickened. “Do you,” he was looking around the room as if something was going to help him with what he had to say next, but there was nothing.

He looked you in the eyes, “will you have children with me?”

You felt your entire body constrict. 

“What?” you asked. Were vampires and humans even _able_ to reproduce? 

Your insides were really, _really_ burning now. His blue grey eyes were searching your expression intensely. You didn’t know if you were somewhat terrified or all parts horny, but there were questions that you wanted answers to, too. 

He was fiddling with something in his pocket now. 

He handed you a note. 

“Regis wrote it,” he said. “It is...it is not easy to read.” You began making out the surgeon barber’s handwriting...

_Tesham Mutna Human Husbandry -_

_Dettlaff - Essentially, they were looking to create a breed of human that could be used for travel without causing a stir (smoke them out, too as we have been calling it) or being slowed down. A desire to reproduce with them so that if/when it was apparent they would soon die, or if their blood became bitter or bland, they could siphon from their offspring, who lived considerably longer lives than their mothers/father, and their blood is marginally sweeter. But, successful mothers can live long lives depending on how many vampire children they have, or at least that is what it says. Here is the excerpt:_

_‘...However, the gestation period is considerably unpredictable. On average it can take 3 months up to a year before a human mother will even show that she is carrying, though the first symptoms occur within the first month. Once she is showing, the time before birth varies greatly. With several being noted taking a month and other accounts up to another year entirely. This means that an entire pregnancy can be as short as three months or as long as two years. Because of this and varying other factors, miscarriages are common during a human mother’s first vampiric pregnancy and nearly always fatal to them, with only a slightly higher survival rate of the brood. Keeping the mother or a human proxy alive is crucial, though, as the first 3 months to 1 years of the offspring's life requires human milk. The offspring itself varies in type and in some cases it was reported to resemble a vampire in their bat-form, with intelligence closer to that of ekimmaras, katakans, and other lower vampire. The more one human reproduces with their vampire master, the more likely they will produce humanoid. There is also a study that directly connects the number of vampire offspring the human mother bears and her life expectancy - so be weary._ _Once the mother bears humanoid vampire offspring, life expectancy and fertility of the mother can be expected to increase, given that the correct precautions are taken. The more the mother has exposure to her humanoid offspring in utero, the bigger improvement in life expectancy._ _This can be largely beneficial as one study of a 189 year old human who birthed without medication for 56 years and could be left in her cell largely without attention due to her improving health. From this we can conclude that older mothers take less resources to maintain and are ideal. She was healthy at the time of death._ _A mother of 1 or more humanoid vampire offspring should be subdued or drained of 1 quart blood daily to prevent them becoming irrepressible. Mothers of more than 10 have bitter blood and must be discarded. To keep a potential human mother alive throughout its maiden pregnancy, it is recommended to brew Marish Me Sel to administer biweekly until the pregnancy is showing..”_

_That’s the gist of it. It then has graphic depictions of how to remove a fetus from the mother if you choose to discard her, and a chart on how to price and label the offspring for market, but I will spare you that. I hope this gives you hope._

  
  


You felt faint. You looked over the note again. _‘She was healthy at the time of death,_ ’. The vampire killed her. This was...the entire note was too much to take. It was disgusting. You dropped it onto the floor, not wanting to touch it anymore. You felt _violated_ in a way you didn’t understand. You were a descendant of Tesham Mutna’s human slaves and you _were with a vampire._ You wanted to cry. You felt so _stupid._ You looked up at Dettlaff who looked at you, pleadingly. It looked like he _had_ been crying. He looked so sad. You could see the apology in his face, and the fear.

The self loathing.

How could he ask you to have children with him when his kind did things like this to yours? Had that been what he was asking himself? It made more sense to you now, how he could think he was a monster.

But he wasn't.

“I…” he started, “I know,” 

Somehow you knew what he meant exactly. 

“Oh, no,” you gave him a firm look. “No, Dettlaff.” 

You watched as his chest began to heave again.

“You are _not_ a monster,” you told him, standing up, looking him in the eyes. “ _That_ …” you spat pointing at the note on the floor, you felt overwhelmingly angry at the note, but overwhelmingly tender for the vampire who trembled by it, “ _that…_ ” you took a breath. “Those _things_ in that letter,” you looked up at him, “they are _not_ your fault.” 

“Stop,” he said. But you only walked closer to him.

“Listen to me, Dettlaff,” you made him look at you. “You are not a monster.” 

He stirred, looking towards the door, you held his face. 

“Having fangs, having claws,” he was trembling…

“Stop,” he said again.

“Does not make you a monster.” 

“Maina,” he pleaded.

“...drinking blood, the turning into smoke,” 

He was starting to shake so you took him in your arms and he began to weep silently, again.

“None of that makes someone a monster,” you whispered in his ear as his head slumped down to the familiar place that was your shoulder. “You are _not_ a monster, Dettlaff. And you can ask for _this_.” you squeezed him. He was calming down. “You can ask for me to be with you, and you can ask for us to try to…” You shuddered. He looked at you, holding your face in his hand. 

You were in love with him. 

“To try to have children,” you finished. 

“I…” Dettlaff began, looking at the floor, then he closed his eyes. His voice dropped to a whisper, “if you leave, Maina, please tell m-”

“I will never leave you without telling you.” You interrupted, kissing his forehead. "And if I can help it, I'll never leave."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: violence, being naked around a friend, talk of pregnancy, claustrophobia, essentially torture, mentions of abandonment, a fat-shamey remark while being exposed. Think that's it.


	8. Possible Oversight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Regis chat about mutations while Dettlaff and Maina spend time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW at the end notes! There are one or two!!
> 
> There is going to be a chapter coming up that I will post that is solely illustrations for the past few chapters. I want them to kind of be in the same place instead of interrupting the chapter itself, for now. 
> 
> Edit: I added this chapters' illustration at the end. :)

/\/\

Geralt walked towards his front door that was just now swinging shut. He was still half concerning himself with Marlene, the old woman who he brought back here. She didn’t look well at all, and he wasn’t so confident that she wouldn’t die from the shock alone. Just then a dark shadowy male figure came out holding Maina, who was digging her face into his chest. 

“For fucks sake,” he whispered to himself. 

As he got closer, she popped her head up from Dettlaff’s chest and caught sight of Geralt. He exaggerated his eye roll as much as humanly possible before stepping through his door. 

The living room was warm. He really did have to give it up for Barnabas-Basil, the house was incredibly cozy inside. Candles lit at every corner and rich red tapestries that countered the dark wood in the home always made the witcher feel at ease. Something that did _not_ make him feel at ease, however, was the way Regis was staring off in space with a worried look on his face. 

“Regis,” he greeted, unbuckling the leather strap that held his blade oils, setting it on the table. 

“Yes, Geralt,” he replied, “how are you?” 

“Just peachy,” he said, moving onto removing the pouch that held a poison for wights, “came here to check up on my health, did you?” He put the pouch on the table next to his leather strap. Then stood for a moment before he looked to the door, “I know that he and Maina are uh...a _thing_ now and all, but I don’t necessarily like having him pop up at my house.” 

Regis looked at him, “I can understand that,” his frown deepened, but then he shrugged, “unfortunately you’ll need to talk to either Maina or himself about that, and you’ll probably have more luck talking to Maina.” 

The witcher looked at him like he’d just delivered a very bad punchline. 

“You’re kidding.” 

Regis sighed, leaning back and putting his legs on the table. “I’m afraid so. Dettlaff is...invested, now.” He crossed his arms, “All in. Found the one. Et cetera.” He made a gesture with his arms.

“You sound pretty happy about it,” Geralt snickered, but his friend just drew a long breath and pierced his lips.

“I’m just tired, perhaps. It’s been a long odd number of weeks,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “...If anything, I’m probably a little jealous.” 

Now _this really_ had the witcher’s attention. “Jealous?” he asked, incredulously. “Over a relationship of _Dettlaff’s?_ How intricate or _intimate_ could a relationship with a guy like _that_ be?” He laughed, _really_ laughed at the thought of it.

“Incredibly,” Regis stated tersely and unamused. “Dettlaff is a highly emotional vampire, Geralt, you know this. Besides, our lot generally only ever find _the one_ once in our lives. I always thought having that _one_ be a human an unfortunate downfall...short life expectancy and everything,” he vampire looked _very_ tired, “but now I’m not so certain.” 

Geralt merely cocked his head. “Vampire stuff... _right_.”

“Vampire stuff _indeed_ .” He sighed, “then add the fact that he’s almost three hundred years matured and has control over his thirst for human blood...not that Dettlaff ever really had a thirst for it in the first place, but, yes, Geralt. It would be _very_ disingenuous of me to state that I wasn’t at all envious of Dettlaff’s situation.

“We generally have _many_ , and those many can be effective time killers and distractions, but there is only _one_ that relieves us of our pain.” Regis’ eyes were getting farther and farther away from the witcher as he spoke. “I’ve already had mine, and I didn’t realize this all when I had her. Now she is gone, and I hadn’t planned a way to keep her around. _My_ life is filled with distractions as I wait for something real, again, Geralt, but I don’t know of anyone who has gotten _two.”_

“Not to be rude,” Geralt cut in, “but that’s a little _co-dependent_ , isn’t it?”

“It was for me,” Regis’ eyes came back to the room, “but if done correctly it should be perfectly interdependent. Who should care if it is done right or wrong, if there is any?” He sighed, “This is a time of growth for Dettlaff, and I couldn’t thank Maina enough for what she has contributed to him, what she _will_ contribute to him.”

“It’s enough to make _me_ want to hurl,” Geralt replied. Regis smiled at him. 

“In _deed_.” 

The witcher had gone to the kitchen and grabbed cheese, grapes, a few bottles of wine, and a loaf of bread that had managed not to grow mold. Together he and Regis walked out into the balmy summer night air of Toussaint, sat on his balcony and spoke about Regis’ weeks away. The stars were bright and beautiful. The moon shone on the veranda.

“This sounds absolutely awful,” Geralt concluded. “What a lousy bunch of vampires.” He was opening their third bottle of wine and was beginning to feel the Est Est. “Honestly it makes Dettlaff sound like the epitome of moral rectitude.” 

Regis smiled, “Ah, you still desperately underestimate him, Geralt.” 

“Okay, okay,” he sighed, “Fine. But…” he started refilling his glass, then Regis', “what I want to know is _why_ you were looking into this _human husbandry_ in the first place. Kinda seems like you’re trying to avoid that.” 

“We looked into it because we want to make it as safe as possible.” 

Geralt stared at him, obviously having missed some greater picture. “Make _what_ as safe as possible?”

“Why, for them to have children together. So that Maina will live longer...possibly _much_ longer, of course.”

The witcher was at a loss for words. His entire body tightened.

“Regis…” he began as his jaw thawed a bit. 

“We needed to find a recipe for the draught that will keep Maina healthy during her first pregnancy, possibly _only_ pregnancy for awhile, and then another to help ensure that the babe…”

“...comes out a baby and not a _bat_?” Geralt scoffed. “This is kind of disgusting, Regis. You have to admit that.” 

“I actually believe it is astonishingly beautiful.” He looked at his friend, “That they should find each other like this and be _able_.” 

Geralt bit his tongue. He didn’t like to admit when he was holding prejudice, then something occurred to him that he had forgotten.

“She’s mutated, now.” 

“I beg your pardon?” the vampire asked, sounding unhappy. 

“Yeah, today we went to the lab _I_ went to when I first arrived here.” Suddenly the wine in both of their stomachs was souring. “Not sure if it has any effect on fertility, but…”

“But?” Regis asked.

“Listen, I’ll write to Yen about it.” He thought for a moment, “Actually I’d rather not.” 

The vampire across from him had a face that was growing dark. 

“It shouldn’t be a problem,” Geralt continued. “Really, Regis, no one needs to worry yet. I didn’t even think about it. They were minor mutations. They only just barely enhanced the ones I have. She was falling all over the place in the dark, Regis, it was ridiculous! I had to do something. She felt useless and I hate seeing her like that, you know how she gets! She looses her...” He shrugged, then smirked at how excited his friend was earlier that day, realizing she could now see in the dark.

“Geralt you need to be careful.” Regis stated blankly. “If she turns out to be infertile Dettlaff will kill you.” 

Geralt scoffed, “I’d like to see him tr-”

“No.” Regis looked at him meaningfully, “He will kill you before you even know what’s happened.” 

“So much for ‘a time of growth’ for Dettlaff and all of _that_ bullshit.” Geralt mumbled to himself. 

“Well, I don’t think he will kill you _solely_ because you maimed her in a way.” 

The witcher blushed at the look his friend was giving him. “Regis, _what_ could you _possibly…_ ”

“You know exactly ‘ _what I could possibly_ ’. I haven’t seen you act this way towards or about someone since _Yennefer_ or _Triss_. Be careful.” 

“Regis, I appreciate your advice but Maina is like a little sister to me.” He paused and thought about how he'd dressed her, “Kind of.” 

The vampire eyed his friend for a long time. “You really don’t see it yet, do you?” He shook his head, “Humans are utterly _absurd._ ”

“Yeah, whatever. Just don’t tell Dettlaff about mutations and fertility for a bit, okay?” 

“You don’t think he doesn’t already know about their connection?” 

“Yes, well we don’t know about _these_ mutations,” Geralt countered, “it’s not like it was the fucking trial of the grasses, Regis. They were mild, _are_ mild. Shit, with the way she’s always wrapped up in his arms, what do you think the chances are that she already _is_ pregnant? For fucks sake. Maybe I should put her in that machine again and relieve her of Mr. Eternal Suffering if it’s _that_ easy.” 

He was standing. He set down his glass and walked towards his front door, before turning around “just...nobody jump to fucking conclusions.” The door to Corvo Bianco slammed shut. 

Regis sat and finished his glass of wine before leaving, all the walk home considering the absurdity of humans.

\/\/

-

"...And if I can help it, I'll never leave." You replanted your heels on the floor after kissing his forehead. 

He opened his eyes and looked at you. Was there still doubt in them? You couldn’t be sure, but you wouldn’t let that bother you now. You could simply prove it to him. 

“Why?” He asked, searching your expression. 

“Because you are important to me,” you replied. 

His brows unfurrowed slightly; his eyes flickered about your face.

“And because I’m happy when I’m with you.” 

Dettlaff’s chest expanded, and the corner of his mouth curled up in a smile, exposing a line of sharp, white teeth. 

“I make you happy,” he said. You laughed.

“Of _course_ you make me happy.”

His toothy, crooked smile was suddenly showing _more_ teeth. That smile was incredibly intoxicating and _incredibly_ genuine. You breathed, dazedly, getting sucked into his gaze. He let out a short, satisfactory “Mm,” and held your jaw in his hand before moving his face to your neck. “Thank you.”

Warm breath spread over your skin and you inhaled. Keeping your jaw in his hand, he started kissing you. Gently, then more passionately. His other hand ran along the wide collar of your shirt and slid it down over your shoulder. You felt his lips cover the area next. “Dettlaff,” you whispered. 

He picked you up and carried you over to the king sized four poster bed and began undoing his jacket as you took off your clothes. He tugged at his drawstring shirt as you slid down his trousers - his stiff cock springing out of it. You wrapped it in your hand and began stroking it. Dettlaff looked down at you and ran a hand through your hair. He let out a deep, rumbling sigh as you licked up and down his shaft, then took the girth of him in your mouth.

“ _Maina,_ ” he cooed, pushing his hips forward.

You felt his cock growing in your throat as you moved your head back and forth. He pulled your head in slightly and you gagged at the length of him. Looking up you saw his crooked smile before he pulled his hips from your face and flipped you so that you were on your back. You closed your eyes and felt his breath on your labe. You let out a moan as he sucked at your clitoris gently, feeling his tongue go from perked to flat again against your most sensitive area. Warmth rippled through you. His eyes staring into you; the crooked smile back on his face. You shivered and felt his hands grab your waist, pulling you closer to him. He let out a low hum and your body convulsed. You were so wet you felt it _everywhere_. A hand went to massage the inside of you and you writhed. “ _Dett_ laff,” you moaned. “ _Fuck, Dettlaff…_ ”. His eyes pierced you as his tongue ran circles on your clit; he released a growl and sent a vibration through you that pushed you over the edge. He grabbed at you, eyes still on you. A wave was washing over you as you moaned, closing your eyes you felt euphoria dip through you, his grip tightening on your waist. You opened your eyes and let out a sigh.

Then, you flipped over onto your stomach, and, looking back, wiggled your butt at him invitingly. You winked at him. And saw his smile disappear immediately. He grabbed your waist again and thrust his cock into your pussy. He shuddered with a low moan; you felt him getting deeper and deeper. He relaxed slightly before pushing himself further into you again. His breaths were become wild. Your breath hitched and you were constricting your insides without noticing. “ _Fuck,”_ you squealed in delight. He bucked, and groaned, sliding himself back so that the tip of his pulsing member was playing at the opening of your pussy. He grabbed your ass with both hands and smacked it, sending you into another bout. 

He pushed the girth of himself into you again. You felt his head pushing further into and he smacked your ass again. His pace quickened rapidly and he was now fucking you _hard._ He slid you back further against him, “ _Maina,_ ” he whispered throatily in your ear and took your breasts in his hand, forcing your back up against his chest where he stood. He pushed you down _hard_ on top of him, suspending you in the air. You nearly screamed. He shivered and thrust his cock deeper, growling your name between gasps. He squeezed you harder and started to come inside you as he bit down into your shoulder, drawing blood. You felt him sucking on your shoulder as his dick quaked and pulsated inside you. His body constricting and relaxing erratically. You felt his cum begin trickling down your leg before he was even finished bucking. His hand came up and held your head by your jaw and he moaned, still sucking your blood, his soft lips on your skin and his member in you from below.

Then he retracted his fangs from your shoulder and kissed the place he had bitten. Still suspending you against him he flipped both of you on the bed. You gasped, but then cooed at the smoothness of the transition. 

His pupils were huge as he stared down at you. You touched the wound on your shoulder and found that it had already closed up. He was gently stroking your jaw with his thumb. He went to kiss your neck again. You closed your eyes and smiled. 

“I missed you,” he breathed into your neck. You sighed. 

“I missed you, too,” and with that, he felt him inhale against your skin.

"I am glad," you could hear the smile in his voice. 

“I didn’t know you drank blood,” you said mildly, trying to act indifferent. You felt his thumb slow to a halt on your cheek. 

His face on your neck grew warm. Was he blushing? “I don’t,” he said. 

You looked at him, arching a brow. He _was_ blushing. Slightly.

“I _didn’t_ ,” he amended.

“Why?” you asked, not sure if this was a sensitive subject or not. The culture of drinking blood amongst higher vampires had actually never been cleared up for you. 

“There isn’t really a point to it,” he replied, drawing circles on your skin again, kissing it. “It can feel nice, for a while, but it can also be addicting. Most humans do not want to have their blood drunk,” he looked down, “so why should I drink their blood? It is childish.”

His face turned a darker shade of scarlet and he looked away. 

“I do not know why I drank yours, just now.” he admitted. “It…it felt like I needed to, in that moment. I needed you, a part of you. More of you." He sighed. "I am not sure. I have never experienced _this_ kind of desire.” He stopped, closing his eyes, “but now it _does_ feel like I have a part of you. A warmth in my body for you to have claimed...” he trailed off into silence, looking down.

You cocked your head to look at him, but he was still pointedly avoiding your gaze until he turned to you. 

“I am sorry, Maina.” 

_Why, though?_ You wondered. It wasn’t painful and you didn’t get hurt. He hardly even drank any. 

He wanted to drink your blood because he’s a bloody Higher Vampire, and you weren’t going to shame him for that. 

“Dettlaff, if you want to drink my blood and are responsible about it, you can,” you smiled, cupping his face in your hand. He put his face in it and breathed before looking back at you. “Just give me a little heads up beforehand, until I get used to it.” 

His eyes widened, “You’re serious?” 

“Yes,” you replied, “if I don’t end up liking it, I’ll tell you.” 

He brought you in closer and squeezed you to his chest. “My Maina,” was whispered into your hair. Slowly, you fell asleep.

-

In the night you dreamt of a large black cat, perching itself on the end of your bed as you slept. Beside you a monster lay, and behind you, death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: smut that is graphic but consensual and between adults. Strong language, talk of pregnancy. I think that's about it!
> 
> Let me know if you enjoyed the chapter!


	9. Friends Don't Let Friends Die in Their Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dettlaff has to run an errand, you and Geralt find trouble before a peculiar fever takes hold of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I added some simple sketches to a scene in this chapter cause I need to get better at drawing action sequences, ha. :) But let me know if it is distracting/takes away from the experience. I'll draw Maina with a face eventually...AND JUST COMMIT TO IT.
> 
> CW at the end!

You woke to the summer sun filtering through the large windows and their lace curtains. It was _hot_ out today, you could already feel the humidity as you shifted to move the blankets off you. It wasn’t until you rolled over that you noticed he wasn’t in bed. _That’s disappointing._ You were starting to wonder if he had some sort of aversion to mornings. _Is waking up next to your higher vampire lover_ too _much to ask?_

In the midst of tying up your trousers you noticed a piece of parchment folded on the bedside table and picked it up. Inside was a note written in surprisingly elegant script.

_Maina,_

_Something occurred to me while you were sleeping, and now I must leave you to run an errand. Please visit Regis before this week is over and show him this note. I will be back as soon as possible._

_Your Dettlaff_

_‘Your Dettlaff’_ , you read again and sighed. You certainly did _not_ mind the sound of _that._ God this note _smelt_ like him...you inhaled it. _Mmmm_. Cedarwood. You pocketed it for a later sniff, feeling only slightly creepy for it. A frown tugged at the corners of your mouth, ‘ _before this week is over’_. _Ugh...does that mean he’s going to be gone a-whole-nother week?_

You were in full pout mode as you finished dressing yourself. A pout which became increasingly more difficult to maintain as you took in your surroundings and the _spectacular_ view of Toussaint from the bedroom’s multiple windows. You went out on the balcony and had relief from the heat as a breeze passed through your hair. You could see the entire eastern portion of Toussaint from here, and looking north, found Corvo Bianco in the distance. To the west you searched for Regis’ graveyard, and were fairly certain you at least identified the small forest where it lay. ‘... _Visit Regis before this week is over,’_ you wondered why he was asking for you to do that. Just then you felt a pang in your stomach, “Oh,” you said aloud. _Right_ . You looked around the room and found a bowl of fruit. Picking up an apple, you dug the nail of your thumb in it, slightly. _Not wax,_ you smiled, and bit into it. 

Apple in hand you made your way out of the labyrinth that was Orianna’s house and onto a vast balcony overlooking her courtyard. 

“Wowsers,” you mumbled into your apple, taking the large marble stairs, passing rich tapestries and walking out onto the first floor. It was _incredibly_ hot outside, and you were a bit of a sweater. You considered your shirt. Then, absentmindedly wondering what kind of baths they had around the place, you opened the front gate to the street and shut it behind you. 

“You know,” came a familiar voice, “horse delivery man doesn’t necessarily fit my job description.” You jumped and, turning around, saw Geralt leaning back against the wall of the stone gate, the hood of his delicate armor hiding half of his face. He referred to that armor as being Of the Cat. Or was it School Of the Cat? You couldn’t remember. 

“For god’s sake, Geralt,” you said, picking your apple up from the ground where you dropped it, “are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack?” You looked around for Mers and Roach, “Horse delivery, eh?” 

He nodded, pushing himself off the wall, “Yeah. _You’re_ going to need to have a chat with that vampire of yours about _not_ showing up to my house unannounced, got it?” 

“He showed up at your house?” you asked as the two of you started making your way down the street on foot. “And if it was a horse delivery, why am I _walking_ right now?” you added, sassily. 

“Because I had some errands to run and left them on the westside,” he said, “and _yes_ he showed up at my _house_. You know what he said? You know how he asked me to bring you your trusty steed?”

You were trying not to giggle at the sight of Geralt getting worked up about receiving orders from Dettlaff. It was pretty cute, though. You could tell that he thought you’d find this funny, and seemed to be enjoying trying to act as dramatic about it as possible. You took the bait. 

“Oh, the gull! _Do_ tell me how he asked you,” you replied, equally feigning the gravity of the matter. 

“He appeared out of thin air while I was alone in the herb garden and said, ‘Bring Maina her horse, witcher. She is at Orianna’s’ and fucking _wisped_ away again.” Geralt looked at you, your jaw hanging open, and nodded. He mockingly checked to his left and to his right before bringing his head closer to yours, “the _audacity_ , am I right?”

“Oh my god,” you said, starting to laugh about it, but you could also feel your face starting to flush. “I’m sorry.” He turned his attention back to the street, but he still had a slight smile on his face. You felt bad that Dettlaff was barking orders at Geralt to take care of you. Barking orders at Geralt. You let that sink in, for a second. Orders that he _obeyed_ . Geralt didn’t like taking orders from men. In fact, you’d noticed early on in your relationship how much he seemed to _despise_ it. Which had you wondering: How powerful _was_ Dettlaff? Geralt didn’t seem to mind Regis, in fact they were _friends,_ and he certainly wouldn’t do anything Regis told him to do if he didn’t want to. So why would he when it was Dettlaff? You looked at your friend as he strode alongside you. Now it made sense to you.

He was afraid of Dettlaff. 

“Well,” you started, a smirk growing on your face, “you _could_ have just _not_ brought Mers.” 

Geralt looked at you. “Don’t.” 

“ _What?”_ you asked, acting like you weren’t up to anything, but it wasn’t working, you were already starting to laugh. 

“You know _what,_ ” he replied, nudging you on your shoulder. “Okay, so, we have to go to the herb store to pick up some ingredients for Marlene.” 

_Really trying to change the subject, huh. Wait…_

“Marlene?” you stopped for a moment, “Oh! Marlene! God, I almost forgot. How is she doing?”

“Better,” Geralt smiled, “but she needs some medicine. She also is dead set on starting to cook for us,” he eyed you, “and also wants to _tidy up the place_.” 

“Whoa. This whole curse lifting thing is turning out to be better than I expected.”

He dropped his head and shook it, “ _Un_ believable.”

“ _What?”_ you asked as he disappeared into the herb store.

-

The two of you shopped around Beauclair until mid afternoon, then packed the provisions onto your horses and started making for Corvo Bianco. Geralt had been laughing and ribbing you about your swordplay, which was a sign that you were getting better. He wouldn’t dare say anything about it if it were a month and a half ago, but now that you were comfortable with it and had some skill, he could jest. 

“I’m not _that_ bad,” you said, rolling your eyes, patting Mers on his withers. Mers was in a _very_ good mood today with all of the recent activity. Geralt looked pensive for a moment. 

“Nah,” he finally let out, “you’re actually kind of a _natural,_ believe it or not.” 

Your mouth fell open as you stared at him, not believing your ears _. Did Geralt just pay me a_ compliment _?_

“Don’t give me that look,” he replied, “did you honestly think most people learn how to use a sword within two months? Enough for me to bring them on a contract with Barghests and a _Wight_ ? A _Spotted Wight?_ ” 

In all honesty, you _had_ thought about that. At first you thought Geralt was just being encouraging, taking you along, and that there wouldn’t be any _real_ danger. So it had been surprising when he actually _had_ put trust in you to defend yourself. You smiled. 

“Thanks, that means a lot.”

“You still have a long way to go,” he reminded you, “so don’t start slacking off now.” 

You turned at the fork in the road towards Corvo Bianco, leading away from the Sansretour’s turquoises and navy blues. Something was starting to prick at the back of your neck as you and Geralt made your way up the slope. The hairs there were beginning to stand on end. You looked around, having a clearer view with your new vision.

To your own surprise, you sniffed the air instinctually. _Oh my god I’m becoming one of them,_ you thought to yourself, but you caught a scent. _Something isn’t right…_

You veered Mers off the road and up the hill on the western side of Corvo Bianco, just barely hearing Geralt call out before following after you. Pushing Mers forward you followed the smell, and soon enough an energy was pulsating in the air. It was _dark._ It was unsettling. Changing your focus you checked in with Mers, who was still reading as calm and content. _So you can’t feel it._ Then there was movement. Your eyes refocused to the field far in front of you. An inky black cloud was moving low to the ground. The energy swirled up and hit you again as the cloud changed direction. You squinted, “Noonwraith.” 

Digging your heels into Mers, you sped off towards the spectre with abandon. Geralt called after you, and before you knew it he was hot on your trail. He threw a small black ball at you - you reached out with your left hand and were struck by the ease of which you caught it.

“You don’t have any armor on,” Geralt called, racing up to you on Roach as you pushed Mers to a gallop, “stay a safe distance away and toss _this_ if I get desperate.”

 _Desperate?_ You wondered, then you saw that Geralt wasn’t wearing either of his swords. “Oh, _fuck,_ ” you said aloud. 

“ _Fuck_ is right.” He yelled out, darting in front of you and tossing another black ball back to you. You caught it and started slowing Mers as Geralt reached the noonwraith. You slipped off your horse and looked down at what you had in your hand, “Moon Dust bomb,” you whispered to yourself and got into position behind a line of large rocks in the field. You peered out at the scene. Geralt was just hopping off Roach and pulled out his crossbow from his saddlebag. He made a motion with his hands...casting something, on himself. “Quen?” you wondered. Then he smacked his hand down to the ground and you saw the shimmering purples of Yrden appear in a circle around him. He crouched his body. The noonwraith’s energy was _everywhere._ It sent shivers down your spine...cold and black like tar. You lowered your head slightly, _breath, Maina._

Geralt was just lowering himself when suddenly, the noonwraith appeared - tall, suspended in air, black clouds billowing in and out of her tattered old wedding gown, her jaw slacked and decomposing off her very face, her tongue nearly reaching her belly button as it jiggled suggestively. You shuddered. You felt _sick_. She was just inside Yrden’s protective circle, “shit,” you whispered. She started to writhe from the variation of Yrden he cast. Geralt hit her with a crossbow bolt to the chest, then sent Igni flames out of his right hand. “ _Shit,_ ” you said, only this time your voice inflection was impressed. You’d never seen him _do_ _that_ before. You knew he could, from what he told you, but, _damn._ Suddenly the noonwraith was gone, again. “Shit.”

You looked to the bomb and unhinged the top of it, preparing to deploy it at a moment’s notice. The energy was becoming more intense. Your heart started beating faster and faster. You turned your back to where Geralt stood crouched in the field and put your back to the rock. It was cold, and comforting. Sweat was accumulating on your brow. “Shit.” You said. You were starting to worry. The noonwraith’s energy was becoming stronger and stronger. You could feel it in your hands as if they were on fire - on fire after a long day in the freezing rain. To the bone. You shook them. _“Shit_.” You looked back out to the field. Was the tall grass around you swaying more than it was a minute ago? 

Behind you came a loud rattling like wind through a canopy of dead leaves. Chills ran up your spine. You turned around and the noonwraith was appearing not a foot from you. The beginnings of her face came into focus and it was terrifying. Filled with hate and decay, blue, green, and purple. Simultaneously you chucked the Moon Dust bomb at where your feet had been and flipped over backwards across the large stone.

You didn’t have time to be surprised that you rolled and landed on your feet as you bolted towards Geralt, who was running towards you. You looked back and saw the noonwraith regain its composure. You went to grab the other bomb when something caught the toe of your boot and you fell over flat on your stomach. 

“ _SHIT!_ ” you quickly rolled over just in time to see Geralt leap over you. You were trying to free your boot from the gnarled vegetation when you looked up and saw that the noonwraith had vanished. Geralt was walking slowly around the line of large rocks. 

That creeping feeling was biting at your neck again. You grasped at the roots keeping you stuck, but the hairs behind your ears were starting to perk up. You froze, then slowly reached for the other Moon Dust bomb…

The noonwraith appeared before you with a squeal and a clawed hand smacked the bomb from you, sending it into the air with an explosion. You tried to crawl backwards but your foot was still wedged in the vines. _Fuck. FUCK._ You kicked at it with your free leg but couldn’t make contact. Everything was happening in slow motion. You put your hand up to stop the next blow and a loud _whoosh_ punctured the air as a force sprawled from it. _What the?_ You looked up to see her curl back her body in preparation for another strike when you heard it, that tea kettle was going off somewhere again. It was all you could hear. You put your hands over your ears, wanting to cry. The noonwraith drew down on you and you closed your eyes.

A horrible roar filled your head and a thud following it. You hadn’t been touched. You opened your eyes and saw before you a large, muscular, black cat. A panther, but somehow different. It growled at the wraith for you, protectively. You felt frozen. An energy was emanating from it that told you it was okay. You could feel it take in _your_ energy. It swiped at the noonwraith again _making contact_ \- the spectre let out a shriek before it finally crumpled. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Slowly her remains dissipated into the air. You looked to the cat, but it was gone. 

You turned your head to the side and emptied your stomach. 

“What the _hell_ was that?” you heard Geralt yell, making his way to you. “Did you cast Aard? Oh, damn,” he said, seeing the state of you and your sick. “Yeah, that’ll happen.” 

He knelt down and tore the vines that bound your foot, before picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder. You groaned, feeling sick again. 

“Don’t moan to me about it,” he said, going to pick up some odd, sparkly blue dust left by the wraith and pocketing it, still hoisting you on his shoulder, “you just proved to me that I can’t trust you riding alone without armor on or a sword on your back.” 

He whistled for Roach and Mers to follow as he turned back and made for Corvo Bianco, not 200 hundred feet to the south. “If you get yourself killed, I’m going to be in trouble. From _two separate_ black haired ass holes.”

You heard him say that, but you knew he would be a mess, too, if something were to happen to you. Your stomach went queasy again and you held your mouth. 

“Easy, there,” he told you. “What the hell was that thing?”

“The noonwraith?” you asked, muffled, mostly focusing on not spilling your guts again. Feeling energy was _exhausting_ sometimes, and you were pretty certain you had just thrown a brick wall in the form of wind out of your fucking hand. Seemingly from _nowhere_. 

“The _noonwraith?_ ” Geralt asked as if you were kidding. “No, not the fucking noonwraith, Maina, the...that _thing._ Was it a cougar?”

“Oh,” you were _really_ tired, “yeah, sorry. Actually I think that might be my familiar.” 

Geralt exhaled all the air in his body as he replied, “ _Familiar?”_ You could feel him chuckle underneath you. A hand patted the side of your hip, “Maina, Maina, Maina, what did Yen get me into?”

-

Geralt laid you down on the fainting couch in the small living room of Corvo Bianco. He had offered to take you up the stairs to bed, but you didn’t want to isolate yourself from the rest of the house. You asked him for a pillow or two, so naturally he dumped ten on you. 

“Why do you even _have_ ten pillows?” you asked, tossing several off you. He snickered roguishly and walked away. 

You were starting to feel almost feverish, and you were starting to wonder if those mutations were having a harder time settling in than you initially thought. You wiped sweat from your brow. Eh. You rolled over and fell asleep. 

“Maina,” you heard Geralt’s voice and opened your eyes with a start. “Whoa, it’s okay,” he said quietly, “it’s just me.” Did he look worried? “I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing.”

“I’m fine,” but it came out a groan, and a very dry one at that. He gave you a look. “I could use another blanket or two.”

“Maina it’s already really hot in here,” he replied, and felt your forehead. “I’m going to brew you a Swallow variant, and maybe some White Honey in case you inhaled part of that Moon Dust bomb. I’ll be back.” 

The next time you woke up, Geralt was sitting next to you. You watched as Marlene came in with tea, you smiled at her. You remembered thinking that she was looking a lot better. 

Sometime in the night you stirred and realized that the fainting couch smelt funny, like a fir tree and... _feet?_ No, not feet, but there was a definite tang to the couch now. _Wait a second,_ you opened your eyes and saw Geralt sitting at a desk facing the wall to the left of you. The light of a candle flickered and danced off the side of his face. Looking down at yourself you saw you were covered in three very large, silk and velvet duvets, and you were fairly certain you’d been sweating through someone’s silk sheets. _Holy shit,_ you thought to yourself, _so_ this _is Geralt’s bedroom._ You walked by it everyday you lived here - well, except for the first few months when you rarely got out of bed - but despite that the door was always kept closed and locked. One time he opened it to answer a question of yours in his _small clothes,_ but you’d only managed to glimpse the desk. You felt the sheets again, _Damn._

Enjoying the silky sheets lasted all of two seconds before you started to feel queasy again. You stirred, and caught Geralt’s attention. 

He turned around and looked at you. You felt a little silly being under all these blankets, sick, in his bed, sweaty, but that was fine. Being silly was where you and Geralt hit your stride. You smiled, he didn’t. Somehow, you didn’t think he felt silly about _any_ of this. 

“So what’s wrong with me?” you asked. He shrugged.

“How are you feeling?” he sat on the bed next to you and felt your forehead, again. 

“ _Amazing_.” 

He frowned. “You’re going to need to drink this,” he handed you a mixture. You only looked at it. He helped you sit up and sip it. You looked at him. You really didn’t like how worried those cat eyes looked. You remembered something. 

“Dettlaff left me a note,” you went to pat your trouser pocket, but found that the silk you’d been feeling wasn’t just the sheets, it was your new nightgown, too. “He told me I need to go to Regis this week, maybe you can take me, or go for me, if I’m still sick.”

“Well, let’s worry about that tomorrow.” 

You felt your nightgown, sleepily, “Hey, I get to keep this, right?” 

“Keep what?”

“These new,” you interrupted yourself with a yawn, “super high thread count pa-jammies.” He shook his head and laughed, covering the lower half of his face with his hand before slapping it to wake himself up. 

“First, _please_ never say pa-jammies again,” he eyed you with mock severity, “and second, yes, _please_ keep them. They’re gross now.” But his eyes were all smiles. 

He sighed. 

“Listen, I’m going to need sleep, but I also need to keep an eye on you. So, I’m going to sleep _next_ to you, okay?” you nodded. “I’m going to remove your nightgown, okay?” You cocked your head, furrowing your brows. He sighed. “I know, Maina. But if I take off my shirt and you take off your nightgown, I’ll notice if your temperature starts getting _too_ high early enough to stop it.”

You sighed. He was right. It didn’t matter to you at all, and you were certain it didn’t matter to Geralt at all. But it probably did matter to Dettlaff, and that made you sad. “I think that might hurt Dettlaff’s feelings.”

Something close to incredulity crossed Geralt’s expression before he got it under control. He put a hand on your forehead. “I know but,” he sighed, “fine, we’ll keep your nightgown on. Is that enough?”

You nodded. He removed his shirt and seeing his muscled body scarred and close to you made you miss Dettlaff. His rounder, larger muscles, the cut of his chin, the way his black curls bounced about his ears….his toothy grin. Cedarwood. His eyes. Your heart swelled.

“Maina?” Geralt’s voice brought you back to the room. 

“Hm,” you sighed, “yes?”

“...Nothing.” His voice sounded throaty and...different, but you were too tired and sick feeling to ask him about it. You wished Dettlaff were here. You bet being sick wouldn’t be half so bad if _he_ were here, cuddling you. Telling you stories. Maybe you could even get him to teach you some of those funny words you heard him mumble from time to time. 

“Hey,”

“Yes?” his voice sounded a little more normal again. 

“Is there a vampire language?” You asked, still dazed, and heard his chuckle close behind you. 

“Yes, Maina, there is a _vampiric _language.” Right, _vampiric _. For some reason this news got you hot and bothered. You definitely wanted to hear Dettlaff speak it. It had to be so _sexy._ You felt your legs twitch due to the feeling growing in between your legs.____

“Oh. My. God,” Geralt said, nearly in your ear, “Maina, get yourself under control...at least while I’m laying here making sure you don’t _croak_ in your _sleep._ ”

You felt your face get even hotter. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” 

He sighed. You felt his body get stiff. You were starting to get a really weird feeling in your gut and you didn’t like it. _Was Geralt? ...No._ You wouldn’t let yourself think it. _You're his friend._ That was really important to you, you realized. Having someone who cared about you and didn’t want to...well. It was important to you. Still, lately you thought... you thought you’d seen him _looking_ a little too long, a little too often. _Don’t be ridiculous, Maina. You’re his friend._

You rolled onto your side staring away from him. “Geralt, we’re friends, right?” You felt him laugh as he rolled closer.

“Besides Roach, I’m starting to worry you might be my _best_ friend,” he let out the most dramatic, tragic sigh there ever was, and you laughed. “Can I put an arm or two around you?”

“The fucking what?” you asked, coming out of your stupor. 

“Oh, settle down. It’s not going to do me any good being under these blankets next to you if I’m not touching you to feel whether or not you’re actually getting _warmer_ , okay? You’re in my nightgown, you’ll be fine.” He slid one arm underneath your neck and placed the other on top of your side. His wolf medallion was freezing. 

“ _My_ nightgown,” you amended, yawning. You were getting tired again. He didn’t even feel warm, he almost felt _cold._ Which meant that you were _very, very warm_ . Suddenly you were _quite_ fond of the idea of Geralt making sure your temperature didn’t rise anymore. _See? Stop being ridiculous. Why is he always right..._

“Can you tell me a story?”

“What do you want to hear?” he replied, cool breath on your neck. This felt fine, actually. 

“Anything.” 

“How about I tell you what Skellige is like?” he asked, “you’re in a Skelligen nightgown, after all.” 

“Perfect," you yawned, but you were already half asleep.

-

You woke the next morning in a daze. Geralt had relocated you back to the fainting couch. 

“Geralt,” you called, aching something awful. The fainting couch felt hard as a rock now that you were used to that mattress and you felt _so_ cold.

The witcher came waltzing in with a piece of cheese in his mouth. 

“Can you move me back to your bed?” you asked, you kind of missed the sheets. 

He looked at you blankly.

“I didn’t think you’d want to stay there,” he replied, “and I had to change the sheets.” He bent over and slid one arm under both of yours, and the other beneath your knees, picking you up. “I woke up in a pool of your sweat this morning, by the way. If I ever hear you complain about _me_ being smelly again…” He sighed.

“I also moved you because Regis is coming over and I,” he hesitated, “I don’t know. Is it weird for you to be in my bed? I can’t tell anymore.” 

You laughed, your head lulled, too weak to keep it lifted on your own. “Neither can I. _I_ don’t think it’s weird," you yawned, "I also condone the fever arm cuddles as a means to keeping me not-dead, at least until Dettlaff comes back.” 

Dettlaff...you shivered with excitement all over again. You absolutely could not _wait_ for him to be back. You perked up a bit.

“Yeah, _that_ I’d rather not have to talk about. I know Dettlaff would rather you be alive than un-cuddled, if that's what we're calling it, by yours truly, but I can’t help but think he wouldn’t appreciate the method. Especially since he’s one of those that don't sleep. Probably doesn't understand why I couldn't have just stayed up and stared at you all night like he most likely does.” 

“He sleeps.” 

Geralt blinked at you, “Beg your pardon?”

“Sometimes when I wake up, I catch him sleeping. It’s great.” You felt better just thinking about it.

“Jesus Christ,” he set you down on his bed and started piling blankets on top of you absentmindedly, “Regis wasn’t kidding about you being the _one._ ”

You opened your eyes again, you _did_ feel better when you thought about him, “the what?”

“I said you’re _no fun_ ,” he called over his shoulder playfully as he walked out the door. You heard a clunk and a clank before he reentered the room. “Just don’t tell Regis about me sleeping next to you, okay?”

“Sure,” you didn’t have any problem with that. But seeing as they were friends, and that Regis was reasonable, it made you wonder, “why, though?”

“He seems to think that I’m fond of you in a...romantic or sexual way.” 

You were pretty certain your heart stopped. 

“ _What?”_ you asked. You felt...kinda _gross._ _What the fuck, Regis_. “ _Why?_ ”

He shrugged, “honestly, I don’t know, but it’s been annoying me. Actually it’s been annoying me that I haven’t _told_ you about it, so we could laugh about it and make it not weird." He started pacing, "It also annoys me that he’s, what, four hundred years old and has been around the block…”

You cocked your head. _Was Geralt worried that he was right?_

“Are you worried that he was right?” you asked.

“I don’t know!” He sat down next to you on the bed. “No, I’m not. I certainly _wasn’t,_ either.”

You reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder, but you were just barely able to get your arm up there. He sighed. You were tired again.

“You won’t start ‘being fond of me’, Geralt. He’s just getting to you.” It was true, _you_ thought it to be, at least. You yawned. “I’m just really, really great is all.” 

“Yeah, sure.” he patted you on the head. "Thanks, Maina."

You imagined Dettlaff and a shiver shot through you. You couldn’t be positive of it, but it _really_ felt like you weren’t so sick when you thought about him. Maybe Regis would know more. Yawning, you rolled over and, thinking about the large black cat, let sleep take you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: swearing, some depictions of violence, someone getting spooned who is in a committed relationship.


	10. [ART NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the art so far together in one place. 
> 
> There's also a new one at the end w/ Dettlaff that will be in an upcoming chapter and it's NSFW. I don't know. Couldn't help myself so...there ya go ;) 
> 
> Right click and open the images in a new tab if they're annoyingly large.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Monster, violence, naked depictions of people, glimpse of male genitalia
> 
> Art tutorial addresses at the end (2lazy2link)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is interested in some helpful tutorials for art, here are some easy to follow ones that I make myself sketch along with every few weeks now. This person is not my favorite necessarily, but these short tutorials I DO value a lot because it is clear and you can draw with them. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wAOldLWIDSM
> 
> ^this is an introduction to the loomis head method. There are more on his youtube channel about foreshortening and different angles, how to add features, etc.
> 
> https://youtu.be/u6-bCgRmcko
> 
> ^this is a playlist of tutorials on how to render the different facial features
> 
> Below is a video on using color for shading. Further on in this fic I make a portrait of Dettlaff using a similar pallet to the one this artists implements at minute 40. As someone who mostly uses physical materials when NOT making art specifically for this fic, I found this was helpful for that, too. The big difference is understanding how your specific pigments will work together, especially if you are using oil paints. 
> 
> https://youtu.be/WN9ePkX0v6Y
> 
> Art is very frustrating, sometimes.


	11. The First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regis diagnoses Maina. Dettlaff returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs at the end!
> 
> The following chapter will be out tomorrow and it's going to get fluffy for a second. Though this one's a little flooofed, itself. Fluff floof smut wut. Enjoy!

Something cold on your face woke you up in the evening. You opened your eyes and saw Geralt sitting next to you on his bed. A rumbling sound came from your stomach before it started to cramp. 

“ _ Oh my god,”  _ you groaned, “my stomach feels like it’s imploding.” 

“Here,” Geralt handed you the same mixture as before, helped you sit up, and then held it to your mouth for you. You weren’t expecting to be so weak that you couldn’t lift the bottle,  _ let alone your hand.  _ “Your fever hasn’t subsided, even a little. Regis is here and wants to take a look at you. Is that okay with you?”

_ Is that okay with me? Why in the world wouldn’t it be? _

“What? Of course,” it came out hoarse and distant. 

Geralt still had that worried look on his face. You wanted to make a snide remark telling him not to act  _ too  _ in love with you while Regis was around, but you thought better of it given how damn  _ serious  _ he was acting. 

Squeezing your eyes closed, you heard the door shut with a  _ click.  _ Your abdomen felt like it was trying to steal your breath. One time your younger brother had given you a lurid description of what getting kicked in the balls felt like and you were pretty certain you were experiencing that exact pain _.  _ You chuckled to yourself, which in turn made you feel like you were going to hurl. Just as you were rolling straight onto your face, rigid in pain, the door opened with another  _ click. _

“Maina,” Regis said, managing to somehow sound calm as ever and simultaneously the most worried you’d ever heard him. By the volume of his footsteps you guessed that he was kneeling next to the bed. You panted, trying to gather your breath without expanding anything in your torso, which was impossible. _Ouch. ___

____

“Regis,” you greeted into your pillow, before rolling yourself over. _He_ looked worried, too. But you were really,  _ really  _ happy to see him. It’d been too long. “It’s really good to see you!” 

__

You wanted to reach out and touch his hand or face,  _ something,  _ but it was no good. There was still a pile of heavy duvets on top of you.

__

“It _is_ good to see you, Maina,” Regis smiled, “I do wish that it were under different circumstances, however.” He looked you over, pinching his chin with his forefinger and thumb. Did he always look so vampiric? Maybe he was simply tired. His eyes darted about your face, your neck, and he removed the blankets without giving you warning. You started to shiver nearly immediately, and he replaced them for you. “Sorry,” he offered, “I wanted to check and see how you were looking otherwise.”

__

You wanted to make an offhand remark but you just closed your eyes instead.  _ Good enough, I guess. _ This being sick thing was going to try the amount of patience you were willing to give yourself. Suddenly you realized you still had your eyes closed, and were starting to think about how good sleep would feel. You opened them. Regis was still observing you, pensively. 

__

“Maina, Geralt says Dettlaff left you a note.” 

__

“Yes,” you replied, “I put it in my trouser pocket.” 

__

He arched a brow at Geralt, who rolled his eyes and stuck out his hand, “I found it. Here.” Regis took it. 

__

You could smell the note from where it sat nipped in Regis’ fingers. Cedarwood.  _ Dettlaff _ . Oh  _ god _ . You were really,  _ really _ starting to miss him. “Can I have that when you’re done?” 

__

Regis looked at you blankly for a moment. Then, realizing what you were asking and  _ why _ , his face went all funny and he pursed his lips, giving you some odd half smile before handing over the note. You were actually able to lift it to your face. It smelt  _ amazing _ . It smelt so good you forgot about the pain in your abdomen. Actually, for a moment it felt like the pain had surrendered. 

__

Regis and Geralt removed all the blankets, sat you up, and Regis started the proper examination. Your general health hadn’t been examined by a doctor in... _ years.  _ You forgot how much you didn’t like it. The poking, the prodding. It was bad enough when you didn’t  _ know  _ the doctor. Turns out, knowing the doctor made it somehow worse. 

__

Regis was just lowering your arms when the questions began. “ _ When was the last time you ate?” “What was the last thing you ate?” “When was your last menstrual cycle?” “When was the last time you vomited?” “History of ulcers in the family?” “When was the last time you had sex?”  _ That one had been embarrassing...especially since you were fairly certain the both of them  _ knew  _ when that had been. It was also embarrassing if Regis was suspect at all that you could have had sex  _ after Dettlaff left _ . You shivered, but that was probably the fever talking. 

__

Finally he stood and asked Geralt if he could speak to you in private and shut the door behind Geralt, walked over to the chair at the desk, turned it around and sat. It felt like he was entirely too far away, sitting all the way over at that desk. Did Regis always keep such a distance? Maybe Geralt just spent too much time in your personal space. 

__

“Maina,” the vampire started, then paused. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Has Dettlaff spoken to you about  _ why  _ we were traveling abroad?” 

__

You went cold. Colder than the fever had you feeling a moment ago. That horrible note on human husbandry and… you gulped.  _ Already?  _ You weren’t ready for this. Especially not when Dettlaff wasn’t here.

__

Regis was still looking to you expectantly.  _ Oh, fuck.  _

__

“Yes,” you replied, finally. “Yes, he told me about it. We’re…” you swallowed.  _ Were _ you?  _ Had _ the two of you started to try for a...for a… You snapped your mouth shut. 

__

“You’re?” Regis asked, encouragingly. 

__

“...um, we’re  _ trying,  _ I think.” You gulped. Both of his eyebrows lifted and he exhaled, nodding his head. “Regis?”

__

He shook out of whatever thought was consuming him. 

__

“You’re pregnant, Maina.” 

__

You stared at him, not knowing what to say.

__

“There may be complications because of your undergoing mutations so recently, but we can’t be sure at this point in time. Whether or not that is the case, I will have to brew you Marish Me Sel. I believe it most likely that Dettlaff noticed you were pregnant and went to gather the necessary ingredients in bulk, though that is pure extrapolation on my part.” He sighed. “He’ll make a very good father.” 

__

Your heart fluttered and your stomach dropped through the floor at the same time. Hearing “Dettlaff” and “father” in the same string of sentences made you feel a  _ lot  _ of things. And would he? Would he be a good father? You had been convinced he mostly wanted to procreate so you would live longer. The thought of him fathering kids...your kids… Well, it made you weak in the knees.  _ Wait a second. _

__

“What do you mean he  _ noticed  _ I was pregnant?” You asked. 

__

“You are his Acern Ara, Maina,” the older vampire replied, “It is not uncommon for higher vampires to become very sensitive to the smell, touch, sounds, and so forth, of their Acern Ara. I’m sure Dettlaff is intune with you already, being that he _is_ Dettlaff and all.” He shrugged. 

__

You had a  _ lot  _ of questions. He could  _ smell  _ your?  _ Oh. Oh  _ great _ , I’ve  _ always  _ wanted my lover to sniff out my menstrual cycle like a bear in the woods.  _ But you had to admit, something about it excited you.  _ Sensitive to me, eh? _

__

“So, how, um,” you hesitated, not knowing how this would sound or how much it would give away, “How far along am I?”

__

Regis arched a brow.  _ Oh fucking damn it all _ . You flushed. This was all so embarrassing, somehow.

__

“I am not certain. Vampire human pregnancies vary.” 

__

“I guess I knew that,” you mumbled, looking at your hands. When you saw that Regis was giving you a quizzical stare, you added, “Dettlaff let me read the note you wrote about Teshlat Mounta.”

__

“Tesham  _ Mutna _ .” He corrected. 

__

“Yeah, the place where they tortured my ancestors. You know the one.” You replied, not having liked how snippy he sounded just then. That was odd, though. You normally weren’t offended by things like that. “Sorry,” you said, not entirely sure why you were sorry, either, “I’m just...sick.” 

__

“Pregnancy does cause that,” Regis smiled, “even  _ normal  _ ones.” 

__

He got up and patted you on the shoulder, “Be sure to get lots of rest, Maina. From what I’ve read you might be like this for a good little bit yet. I will leave the Marish Me Sel with Geralt, and if Dettlaff is not back by next week I will bring another.” He patted his shirt pocket, checking for something. “I should have enough ingredients for  _ that _ , at least.” 

__

You sighed. “Thanks, Regis. It really is good to see you again. I’ve missed you.” 

__

He smiled at you again, looking tired and more vampiric than you remembered, and left the room. 

__

You sat there for a moment in your thoughts. You heard the muffled voices of Geralt and Regis beyond the door. You focused on them, and were surprised that Geralt sounded calm. Almost relieved? Had he been so worried you might die that the news of you being pregnant with  _ Dettlaff  _ gave him relief? Good god he needed a vacation. 

__

_ Oh my god,  _ you thought, looking down at yourself.  _ Pregnant.  _ You touched your stomach. You were kind of in awe. This...this was all happening really fast. But it felt  _ right _ . Would…

__

Would you have a  _ family _ , now? 

__

Tears were welling in your eyes. For so long you hated that word. It had tore you apart inside and made you distrusting of others. It wasn’t even the loss of trust in others that was the hardest part. What they’d done to you made you lose trust in  _ yourself _ . They had lied and denied so much that nothing had seemed real. They weren’t family. You wanted to spit on the floor. 

__

Again, you looked down at your own body. You felt so safe when you were with him. Regis once mentioned that Dettlaff at first had a difficult time understanding concepts like lying and deceit, that he still did, at times. He was so  _ genuine.  _ Your insides started to burn and you were positive it had nothing to do with your fever. You were going to cry thinking about how much you loved him and  _ that  _ was the most pregnant thing you’d ever heard of and you literally  _ just  _ started being pregnant.

__

With a quick knock at the door, Geralt walked in. 

__

“Well, well, well,” he waltzed, “here I thought I’d mutated your insides til they were mush and it turns out you’ve been _pregnant the entire ti_ -” he stopped when he caught sight of you, obviously having just been crying. “What’s wrong?”

__

You sniffled. “Nothing,” you said, wiping your eyes, “I’m just happy.”

__

He shook his head, “Yen is going to  _ kill  _ me.” He walked over to the bed and slid you to the other side of it, “you look fucking  _ awful,  _ by the way _.” _

__

“Geralt,” you whined, feeling worse by the second. The knot in your stomach was returning, making you curl yourself into a ball again. “What are you doing?”

__

“Clearing a _ sliver _ of  _ my _ bed,” he replied, huffy. “You’re still two degrees from completely melting into a liquid state, Maina, and this pregnancy is  _ not  _ going to kill you.” He walked to the door and looked at you, “understand?”

__

You hid your smile, “Aye aye, captain.”

__

When Geralt returned he had the brewed Marish Me Sel in his hands. You’d gotten pretty used to the routine of him sitting you up and administering your meds. You just let it happen. You were grateful. You were also really grateful that he seemed in a better mood. Which reminded you…

__

“You thought the mutations had made me infertile?” You asked. This also meant that he’d been worrying about your fertility, but you figured Regis had probably spoken to him about why he and Dettlaff had been gone for two months, so you let that question slide. 

__

“It was an oversight,” he said, removing his shirt, “but yeah, for a bit I was worried Dettlaff was going to literally try to tear me apart.” His chuckle kind of sounded nervous. 

__

“Okay, ready?” he asked, you opened your eyes again.

__

“What? Yes. It’s _your_ bed.” You rolled over so he could slide an arm under your head again. You were sick of smelling his fir tree and feet odor. You felt bad for thinking that.

__

The lids of your eyes were drooping; you were spent, and fairly certain that Regis must have included something to make you sleep in that mixture of his. You’d have to remind yourself to thank him for that. 

__

“So, Skellige? Or do you want to hear about Kaer Morhen?” you heard Geralt ask behind you. Was he taking bedtime story requests, now? You smiled, your heart was so full. You hadn’t answered before slipping off into sleep. 

__

-

__

On the third day of your sickness you had woken up in your own bed in the loft, and were pleased to find that it hadn’t been completely soaked through with sweat. What’s more, the pain in your stomach had subsided and you felt  _ well.  _ You decided to put on your gardening dress and dig around for a bit, not seeing how you could really have anything else to do. You put your sketchbook, a piece of wrapped charcoal in your bag and the journal you’d been long neglecting. 

__

You were still fiddling with the strap of your bag when you walked into the kitchen, causing you to collide with a very old, frail woman who was cooking in it. 

__

“Oh my gosh” you bent over to help pick up the chopped vegetables you just accidentally sent flying out of her hands, “I’m  _ so  _ sorry!”

__

“That’s okay, dear,” she replied. It sounded so  _ motherly  _ coming from her. You blushed at the word. “I was just preparing lunch.”

__

“I’m Maina, by the way,” you extended a hand, “we haven’t really formally met, come to think of it.” 

__

“Oh come here,” she leaned in and hugged you gingerly. “Marlene. There! We’ve officially met.” 

__

She told you she wasn’t sure where Geralt was when you asked, and offered to wash your armor for you, which was very kind of her. You tore off part of a baguette and grabbed what was probably prosciutto (you were still having a hard time telling the difference between certain dried meats...which was a fairly new thing for you) before walking outside and onto the side balcony that overlooked the east side of the vineyard. 

__

It was the first overcast day in Toussaint that you could remember, and the humidity was rising. You were excited to see storm clouds forming to the north and silently hoped for a thunderstorm, taking a bite of the meat.  _ Definitely prosciutto.  _ You took out your journal and started writing to Yen. You were going to have to tell her about the black panther incident. 

__

Just as your pen hit the paper, your stomach lurched and you emptied its contents over the railing. There hadn’t been much in it to begin with and it tasted like acid. You wiped your mouth with the back of hand, feeling a little gross. The words in your journal looked funny. 

__

“O _ kay _ ,” you said aloud to yourself, “maybe I’ll just go back t-”

__

Your stomach lurched again, only this time, it was followed by the worst cramp you had ever felt in your life. It had nearly caused you to buckle over. 

__

“Maina,” came a low, familiar voice. You turned around and saw Dettlaff walking up the balcony, you stood. He was so  _ beautiful.  _ He took you in his with eyes, and you caught his nostrils flaring.  _ Sensitive to your smell _ , you heard Regis’ say in your head. He smiled at you, wide and inviting. Your heart stopped. You’d never seen him greet anyone like that. 

__

Before your mind had time to process everything he’d bounded to you, lifting you up in his arms and putting his forehead to yours. “Maina,” was all he said. “Dettlaff,” was all you replied. He breathed you in.

__

You were a little shocked to see him run to you like that, without hesitation. He’d always been so  _ reserved  _ before. Or afraid, maybe. You held him back tightly. He smelled  _ so  _ good. Everything about him was better than you remembered. His curly black hair, the set of his jaw, the way his temple would twitch when he tensed, the way his nostrils flared when he was happy or excited or angry, his sharper teeth, how his large hands held you,  _ everything  _ was better. 

__

“My Maina,” he whispered into your hair. You locked eyes with his icy blues before resting your head on his chest. Still in his arms he sat down on the bench seat. Those eyes were dancing across your features, he looked enthralled. “I’m sorry I had to leave,” he put his forehead to yours again. 

__

“It’s okay,” you assured him. He smiled. “Dettlaff…” 

__

He looked at you, cocking his head at your apprehensive tone. His brows turned slightly upward in worry. You could feel his hand cup your face and you closed your eyes. It was so soothing. 

__

“Dettlaff I’m,” you opened your eyes to see his were still dancing off you, “I’m pregnant.” 

__

They widened and he looked down at the rest of you, then back to your face. You could see the chest under the black leather frock moving up down as his stare became more intense, “I hadn’t been certain when I left,” he began, his expression becoming stony. “Did Regis?”

__

“Yes, last night,” you assured him and his steely blue gaze.

__

Suddenly his face lit up, his mouth opened in a smile that was nearly a sneer. He just,  _ looked  _ at you. For awhile. With this sneer-like expression...his version of joy. You let out a giggle happiness, and were surprised when a smaller, much deeper one escaped him as well. 

__

You touched his face. 

__

Eventually he found his spot on your shoulder. It felt to you like a weight had been lifted from him, and you hoped that that might last, for at least a short while. “We should stay with Regis in Mère-Lachaiselongue, or at Orianna’s.” He said, finally. 

__

“ _ Orianna’s? _ ” you asked, disbelieving, “She’d let you?”

__

“She would want you to be comfortable there,” he said matter-of-factly. “There are not many of us who  reproduce _ ,  _ when one does, the others show support.” He paused for a moment, before his voice dropped an octave and took on a dark tone. “The witcher is not fond of me.” 

__

The mixture of his voice inflection and expression sent a shiver down your spine. You forgot how  _ dangerous  _ he could seem. How dangerous he actually was. Your body froze involuntarily. 

__

He noticed this and his face softened immediately. “I am sorry,” he cupped your face, “I did not mean to frighten you.” 

__

“It’s okay, you didn’t frighten me!” you feigned. It was a bad lie and you knew it. He knew it by the way he was staring at you. He shook his head and a line of sharp upper teeth appeared between his lips in a smile. He hugged you. 

__

“Thank you,” he kissed your cheek. Then your neck. Staying at Orianna’s empty mansion was sounding better by the minute. He let a growl slip out of him and you could feel yourself becoming aroused. You tried to breathe regularly. “But I think before we go to Orianna’s, we should stay with Regis in his cemetery, until you are,” you heard him swallow, his voice was becoming throaty on your neck, “further along.” 

__

“I trust your judgement, Dettlaff.” He hesitated at your jawline. 

__

“Say my name, again,” you could feel his every breath on you, his handsome jaw and five o’clock shadow in your peripheral, “please.” 

__

His lips brushed your skin, gently. You shuddered.

__

“Dettlaff,” you obliged and heard a deep rumbling come from him. “Dettlaff, not here.” It was getting  _ really  _ difficult to resist this.

__

“Then where?” he asked, sucking on your neck, not breaking skin. “Can I drink you, when we get to wherever this place is?” He brushed where his lips had been gently with a finger. 

__

“Only if you fuck me first.” 

__

He grabbed you by your waist and you prepared yourself to be turned into smoke, but he picked you up instead, putting both of your legs around his front and walked to the back of the house. 

__

“How’s here?” he asked, removing his face from your neck long enough to show off his toothy smirk. You looked up at him to reply but his mouth met yours immediately. “ _Good_ ,” he growled deeply. You closed your eyes. You felt his hands run up your dress and onto your thighs and ass, hoisting you up by them he pushed your back against the wall. His hips gyrated against the pulsating spot between your legs. You were soaking your underwear against what was hard inside his pants. 

__

“Dettlaff,” you moaned, your clitoris being stimulated. His breath caught and you could feel his boner twitch behind the cloth. “ _ Please,”  _

__

His hands tightened around the small clothes under your dress and ripped them. You felt the head of his hard dick start to rub up against your clit. You let out a moan. 

__

“Say my name,” he rumbled, causing a wave of excitement to flare inside you. The sensation of him rubbing against you was driving you insane. You wanted him in you  _ now _ . 

__

“Dettlaff  _ please, _ ” you cooed.

__

“Please  _ what _ ?” he asked, voice growing throatier and deeper. 

__

“ _ Please fuck me, Dettla-”  _

__

His hard cock slid in you, and your insides tightened around it pleadingly. You wanted  _ more.  _ He moaned. You felt the head of him hit you deep within and whimpered. He shuddered, “What do you want me to do?” his lips to your ear, nibbling on your lobe. He thrust again and this time stayed there, using the base of himself to rub up against your clit now. 

__

“Holy shit,” you moaned, you were losing control, “ _ Dettlaff… _ ”

__

He bucked back and thrust deeper, you could feel his dick run up against your front walls and you squeezed. He rolled his hips and massaged your clit with the movement. 

__

“I want you to  _ fuck me _ , Dettlaff” you moaned. 

__

He gyrated his hips faster against you, and then thrust again. He felt so round and ripe inside of you; you couldn’t take it. His breath was on your neck now, and you felt a sharp fang graze it. 

__

“Bite me, Dettlaff,” you moaned, your orgasm crashing over you. 

__

H e howled your name, releasing his body's pent up energy on you. He latched his fangs onto your neck and wailed into it, sucking it as he came, fucking you against the wall. He held you there against it, still hard in you. His hips thrusting now and then as his body began to calm down. You couldn’t feel him sucking anymore but his fangs were still in your neck; he breathed on you. His body twitched in delight. You felt his fangs slowly retract as his lips took their place. He gently kissed you there against the wall before finally letting you down. His cum was running the length of your leg. He bent over to pick up your broken small clothes where they’d fallen and blushed deeply. “I will mend these, too.”

__

You went up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss and he lowered his head to make it easier for you. When he stood up again your heart melted at the sight. He was smiling down at you, and his chest was held high. He was proud of himself. For what, exactly, you were not sure.

__

You fucking loved him.

__

“Can I take you tonight, yet? To the cemetery?” he asked as long, pointed fingers wove themselves between yours. “Forgive me, I just,” he shrugged, “if anything were to happen,” he stopped. “I would feel more at ease if we were there, for now.” 

__

He could ask things of you the remainder of your life and you’d still want to do more for him.

__

“If it will make you feel better, Dettlaff, then of course we will go tonight,” you replied, and saw his nostrils flare up again, his mouth curving up, slightly. He stopped in front of you and ran a large hand through your hair again. 

__

“Thank you, Maina.” He said, looking down at you. Your heart told you that he was thanking you for a lot more than agreeing to go to the cemetery. You smiled. 

__

“Just let me tell Marlene so she can let Geralt know,” you told him as you made for the front door. You saw his lips twitch. 

__

After telling Marlene that you were leaving and where Geralt could find you, you ran up to your room to pack a few things, and startled when you saw Dettlaff was already doing just that. 

__

“Whoa,” you were going to ask how he got in here but then realized that was a ridiculous question to ask him. 

__

“What?” he asked genuinely, cocking his head to one side. 

__

Holy mother of god, you loved him. 

__

“Thank you for helping me pack,” you amended, causing the corner of his mouth to perk up in a smile. You walked over and opened a drawer for him. It seemed like he had been avoiding actually going  _ through  _ anything.

__

He turned and kissed you, putting his hands on your hips again. 

__

At this pace you wouldn’t be getting anywhere. 

__

“Dettlaff,” you started, but the effect just made him growl excitedly,  _ Focus, Maina. _ “Can we take Mers? He could use the exercise and I’ve been sick the past few days.” 

__

“Of course,” he said into your hair, “he is your friend.” He stopped, then and looked down at you, a touch of concern coloring his face. “You have been sick?” His hand found its way to your face again. 

__

“Yes,” you admitted, feeling silly for not mentioning it earlier. “It’s probably a good thing we’re going by Regis.” 

__

“Regis didn’t stay with you?” Dettlaff asked, his voice was taking on a weird shape you hadn’t seen before.   
“Well, he came by and took a look at me, and brewed me a Marish Me Sel or whatever its-”

__

“Don’t call it that,” he was stony. “Regis called it that?”

__

You nodded. 

__

“And he did not stay with you?” he clarified. You were afraid to answer, almost. Something about Dettlaff’s body language was making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Again you found yourself wondering over the thumping of your heart how powerful he really was. Slowly, you shook your head ‘no’ in reply. 

__

Then Dettlaff’s expression went from cryptic to completely blank. You touched his arm, “he was tired, Dettlaff. You could tell something was wrong with him.” 

__

You remembered how distant Regis seemed. 

__

“I’m sure he was,” he replied, “and I know what is wrong with him.” 

__

You reached out and touched his face. You didn’t like how much anger was in him at his friend. He looked down at you, and you saw him come back from wherever he had been. He closed his eyes and held you. After a minute or so he finally asked, “Would you like to ride your Mers to the cemetery, or would you like me to take you?”

__

You exhaled a breath you didn’t remember holding. “Will you walk alongside if I ride?”

__

He smiled. 

__

-

__

__

You had just made it through the Beauclair docks when Dettlaff materialized next to you. 

__

“Feel better?” you asked. 

__

“Yes,” he replied. You wondered how convenient it would be to be able to turn into smoke and avoid crowds of people. With how much Dettlaff hated large crowds of humans, you were grateful that he could evade them. You smiled at him, but he was looking off in the distance. You could tell that he was unhappy with Regis. You didn’t want him to be hard on the older vampire, on his friend.

__

The Toussaint sky was just beginning to darken, and you could see the sun greet the horizon through the clouds. You reached the crest of the last hill before the forest. It smelt like it was going to rain. 

__

There was something you needed to tell Dettlaff that you’d forgotten about. 

__

“Dettlaff,” you began; he looked at you almost alarmed. You guessed the trepidation in your voice was thicker than you intended. “I wanted to tell you about this sooner, but you left unexpectedly and before I really had the chance, but,” you took a deep breath, “Geralt took me to a laboratory here in Toussaint and I underwent some mutations.” He looked at you. “They were pretty minor but now I can do things like see better in the dark, and my reflexes are really good now, and I did a backflip the other day which was pretty cool.” 

__

He smiled at you. 

__

“And Geralt said they would probably make me live longer.” 

__

Slowly his smile faded. He came closer and held out his arms, taking you from the top of Mers, and continued walking with you in his arms. “Let’s not think about that, now.” 

__

To your surprise, Mers followed him the rest of the way. 

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW depictions of sex, talk of pregnancy, depictions of morning sickness


	12. Love's First Soft Touches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major CW's if you have any trauma around pregnancies PLEASE see end notes.
> 
> Otherwise this shit is flufftastic.

You reached the graveyard as the last grays of the sky retired into dark blues. Dettlaff set you down next to the Crow building, he was looking around. 

“What is it?” you asked. 

“Nothing, I thought I smelt…” he stopped, shaking his head. “It’s nothing.”  
He walked over with your saddlebags and pushed open the door, letting you inside. There was a fire going in the large study room at the end of the hall and you figured Regis was reading or note taking. Dettlaff stared in the direction of the study, a dangerous expression forming on his face. You took him by the hand and opened the door to what was once your room, and found that everything was still perfectly in place. _Did Regis miss having us here?_ You wondered, idly. 

You turned to the tall man and looked at him in the eyes. 

“Dettlaff,” your voice took on a serious tone, and you were happy to see that he responded to it just as seriously, “I know that Regis did something to upset you,” you ignored his slight growl, “but he’s your friend and he loves you. He cares about you. Maybe he’s going through something right now and reacted badly. Who knows?” 

You had a feeling that Dettlaff probably had a much better understanding of the situation than you did, but you continued on.

“I just don’t want you to hurt yourself in the long run because of it.” 

He looked at you, an expression flickered too quickly off his face for you to catch. He nodded his handsome chin, and left you to your thoughts. 

You sighed, unsure of whether or not that had gone over well _at all_. You went to the window and looked at Mers before going to your bags and removing some comfier clothes. Trousers and a simple short sleeved button up. In the bag was Geralt’s nightgown. You frowned for a moment, wondering what would become of your and Geralt’s friendship. You were pregnant and...were the Acer-nana or whatever it was Regis had called you, of a Higher Vampire. You ran your fingers over your lower belly. Now that you had these mutations, how long would it be before you were actually able to really use them? Your frown deepened slightly, before again feeling Mers’ simple, happy energy flow through the windowsill. You walked out into the hall and could hear Regis’ and Dettlaff’s hushed voices at the other end of it. Quietly you opened the door as you made your way outside. 

The air was warm as it started to rain, the pitter patter of the drops hitting the leaves in the trees calmed you. Bending down you removed your boots before walking over to Mers and removed his saddle. He whinnied at you, and you smiled. He was reading as quite content. You lent yourself to nature for a while, hoping that somewhere you would feel that familiar pull of, well, your possible familiar. You gave up on trying to make contact with the cat when Mers nudged your sternum, looking to be brushed. 

Under the cover of a large oak, the swishing noises of the canopies were all that informed you the wind was picking up. You smelt the air, again, closing your eyes as you slid the bristles over Mers’ barrel. The ground you were standing on slowly became wet and soft, yielding to the whimsy of your toes. You pat Mers on his neck as you graduated to the next brush. It wasn’t long before the first crack of thunder soared through the air - you quickly turned your head in the direction it sounded and saw a bolt of lightning ripple through the sky. You giggled in delight.

The sky was nearly black and you were soaking wet when finally two large hands greeted you by tucking a large wool blanket around your body. You looked up at him and smiled, motioning for him to join you on the bench. He sat heavily, and you felt the bench move beneath you. He stared up into the darkness just as it ignited again; you wrapped the blanket around you tighter. 

“I don’t want you to be alarmed,” he bagan, his deep voice mimicking the thunder above, “or to feel unsafe here.” He looked at you, the whites of his eyes clouded and the grey blues of his iris vivid through the dark. “Or to feel unsafe anywhere.” 

You weren’t certain if he was finished speaking, so you gave him more time. It seemed like he was searching for the words to explain something to you. You looked around at the night, then to him. His face turned dark despite the flashes of lightning. “Because you will always be safe.” He looked into your eyes, “I promise you.” 

Your heart started pounding and you looked up to the sky again. You felt a pang in your stomach. 

“Regis has drunk human blood, again,” Dettlaff finally said. “It has been years since he has.” Your attention snapped back to the tall, dark haired man, who was looking up to the sky. “He has difficulty controlling his thirst when he is like this. You can call it an addiction, because it is, for him. For many.” 

For the first time this evening you realized how soaked through you were. Had he killed someone to do it?

“I cannot be certain that he won’t do it again,” he continued, “though he claims that he is finished with it and I believe that he wants it to be so.”

Did Regis know that he was telling you this? It felt uncomfortable, for you to know. It felt uncomfortable that Regis was drinking human blood without consent. Your chest started to feel funny as you realized that you felt _afraid_ of him. You shifted uncomfortably. 

“You do not have to worry. He wants you to know that you are important to him and he will not harm you, Maina,” Dettlaff faced you again, looking over your face. You pulled your knees up to your body and leaned over on him. An arm wrapped around you protectively and he stared back at the sky. 

You didn’t want to question Regis’ self will, but you were aware of how difficult abstaining from an addiction could be to people and you were certain it couldn’t be that different for vampires. “How can we be sure?”

Dettlaff still wasn’t looking at you, but you could feel the heat of his body rise beneath your skin. When he spoke, he really _did_ sound like thunder. 

“Because I will tear him into pieces and consume him, otherwise.”

You shivered and did not look up at him. 

-

You wanted to see Regis, but Dettlaff told you that he would need a little more time. It felt silly, sitting around, waiting to walk into the other part of the building. You stared at the metal tub sitting in the middle of your bedroom. You wondered if Dettlaff was going to be sharing your bed. Currently, he sat next to the fireplace and stoked the embers, already naked from the waist up. You were pacing. 

“You are pacing,” He said into the fire. His head turned towards you and you were surprised to see him _smirking_.

_Hmmph._ For some reason you were intimidated by the prospect of getting completely naked and taking a bath in front of him. He’d seen you naked, obviously, several times before when you were literally _fucking each other_ but that just felt different. He wasn’t _looking_ at you... _all_ of you, then. You weren’t just _out in the open_ in front of him. Maybe it was because his body was that of a literal _god_ and yours was a weird mixture of gangly muscle and pudgy pie. You couldn’t put your finger on it but if you _had to take a guess_.

“May-nah,” he _sang_ in an annoyingly deep and beautiful voice, reminding you that you were still pacing. 

“ _Fine!_ ” you threw up your arms and started to undress yourself. A low, rich laugh came from him. 

“You are beautiful.” he stated, as he walked over and poured the hot water into the metal tub, then left momentarily. You looked down at the water and tested it with a toe. He walked back in with the refilled pot of water and placed it over the fire, before coming over to you and lifting you up. A smile brimming on his face. Your eyes scampered down his jaw to his wide neck, then to his shoulders, his chest. You felt his nose rest up against your neck - it felt like it nearly ran the length of it. He was so much _larger_ than you were. 

He lowered the two of you into the water. You sighed. It was so warm and inviting. Immediately you felt your body relax. You felt his chest rise and fall under your back as you rested against him. “Okay, you were right. This was a good idea.” 

“Hmm,” he replied, you could hear his smile in it. “All that worrying for nothing.”

You blushed. You’d come up with a few excuses as to why the two of you shouldn’t take a bath together. _You know,_ you thought, _for as much Regis was going on about how Dettlaff couldn’t pick up on the subtle social cues of humans he sure can see_ directly _through me._ But then you remembered what Regis had _also_ said about him being “sensitive” to you. You couldn’t help but wonder how communicating with Dettlaff would be if you weren't, well, _you_. He did seem a bit stony around others. Even around Regis. 

Yet, here he was, literally ribbing you about your insecurity of being naked around him. Somehow, you just _knew_ that he knew that was it. Maybe it was because you could feel his energy, but you couldn’t be sure. Suddenly you remembered something you’d been meaning to clarify with him. 

He put you to the side as he went to get the other vat of water heating over the fire. 

“Dettlaff,” you waited for him to finish pouring the water. Partly because it made noise, but mostly because you were very much transfixed at the sight of him. He was holding the vat down by his waist, muscles tensed, his shoulders slightly lifted. The curves of his body were so... _dangerous_ looking. You felt yourself blush as he turned around and you watched his perfectly round ass walk to the fireplace. When he came back to the tub, he caught you staring. His chest swelled and his eyes danced in response. It was that mixture of pride and happiness that you couldn’t place. He certainly knew how to unintentionally turn you on. 

“Yes?” he asked, getting back in. He laid back against the wall of it and motioned for you to come to him. There was so much water in the tub that you nearly _floated_ over to him. You looked at his stomach and the way his abdomen came to a point at the beginning of his penis. _Fuck. What is that name...Adonis' Belt?_ It was perfect. _Focus._ You shook your head and tried to not get lost again when you looked at his perfect black curls. 

“Um,” you started, feeling altogether entirely inadequate next to his simple perfection, making your next talking point seem absolutely _absurd_. 

“Regis told me that I was,” you blushed, trying not to look at his perfect body even though it was _huge_ and literally _everywhere_. “I was your Acerna?”

He had his eyes closed in relaxation, but as soon as you tried to pronounce whatever the word was, a toothy smile sprouted on his face. “Yes, Maina. You are my _Acern Ara.”_

You tried to not let yourself be embarrassed by your mispronunciation. The energy rippling off him morphed slightly, into something fiery and new, he added, “It is from the vampiric language.” 

“What does it mean?” You asked him, looking at his right hand. His long fingers. _Vampiric._ You reached out and held it. He hummed. 

“It means,” he looked at you, “that I love you _very_ much.” 

You felt your face get warm under his gaze. 

“And with that, comes many other things,” he continued, closing his eyes again, “mostly instinctual.” 

So _that’s_ why he was so sensitive to you. “What does it feel like?”

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a while before he answered, and when he did, he spoke slowly as if he was still trying to figure out how to say it. 

“It feels like I am home,” he winced, though, “back in _our_ world.” _Where vampires are from?_ You wondered. “At least, when I am with you.” 

“How?” you asked. He shrugged. 

“You make it feel like I belong here,” he frowned, “or that I belong with you. Maybe _to_ you.” 

You weren’t sure if you wanted to smile or not. 

“No.” He said finally, “you just simply make me feel like I belong, and that is something that, in this world, we only get when we find our Acern Ara. And now that I have it,” his arm slithered its way around you and as he pulled you tightly, whispered, “I don’t know how I will go on without it, when it's gone.” 

“When I’m gone.”

“You don’t have to be,” he whispered more quietly. You felt his other hand on the small of your belly. “We can change that.” 

You felt him tremble softly underneath you, and remembered yourself. He didn’t like talking about your mortality, especially if it was being brought into doubt, so you let it go. You wouldn’t make him live it more than he would have to, and eventually he would have to. 

Finally, you realized that you agreed with him - you didn’t want to think about this anymore. You’d much rather just spend time happily with your incredibly handsome and lethal godsend. 

“Hey Dettlaff,” you started, realizing something, “I think you’re my Acern Ara, too.” 

He laughed handsomely into the air before looking down at you, amused and somewhat delighted, and rumbled, “Oh, you think so?”

You nodded. He shook his head slightly and kissed you on yours. “Okay, so maybe not _exactly,_ but, still.” You thought for a moment, “does the vampire’s Acern Ara usually feel the same way?”

He thought for a moment in perplexion, then said, “It’s hard to say.” 

You looked at him, "and why’s _that_?” 

He looked at you, “because normally, they are _eaten_ .” He flashed a line of _very_ sharp teeth. You shivered. He started to laugh openly and lifted you out of the tub with him. 

“Dettlaff!” you screamed as he slung you over his shoulder, obviously enjoying himself. He tossed you onto the bed and you bounced a little on it. He growled playfully, but then walked over to the tub and picked it up with ease and, still completely naked and beautiful, walked out of the room with it. 

You laid down on the bed, skin still warm from the bath and you smiled. Laying down never felt so good. There were a great many things that felt better now than they ever did before, and for a second you thought you saw a glimpse of what Dettlaff must have been talking about. 

You heard the door open and he walked back in holding the now empty tub. “I think we will keep this in _here_ from now on.” He smiled at you. 

He walked over to the bed and laid down next to you, you rolled over and rested your head on his upper arm. He rubbed your chin with his thumb and kissed your forehead. “Do you like speaking in the vampiric language?” you asked.

“It can be painful at times,” he replied, thoughtfully, “as it reminds us all of home.” 

“Oh,” you replied, feeling bad for asking. 

“But it is less difficult to speak it, now,” he included, “it does not feel as heavy as it did before.”

He kissed your forehead, again.

"Can you teach me something in Vampiric?" you asked.

“Would you like me to teach you how to finally tell me that you love me?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You nodded. 

He lowered his head and whispered to you, “just look at me and say _mi une am.”_

You repeated him as best you could, “ _me yune-yam_ ,” it didn’t sound quite like how he’d said it, and you blushed, waiting for him to point that out. Only he didn’t, so you asked “...did I butcher it?”

For a while you just listened to him breath into your hair before he finally spoke, his voice low and throaty, “it was perfect.” 

You wrapped your arms around his large body and kissed his big chest. He stroked your hair gently. “I think you should rest now, Maina,” his hands going to the place on your belly. He inhaled deeply. 

You just yawned and held him tighter. “Will I get to see Regis tomorrow?” you asked. 

“We will see.”

-

The next day you woke up early and were absolutely _jazzed_ and you had almost no idea why. You felt like you had all of the energy in the _entire world._ You rolled over and saw Dettlaff was actually _still in bed with you._ Your heart leapt. He was _sleeping_ again. You stilled immediately and stared at him for a little, appreciating the manliness of his Adam's apple, before slowly starting to creep out of bed. 

A large hand caught your wrist, “...and where do you think _you’re_ going?” You looked over at him, his eyes were still closed, and his lips were twitching up into a smile again. 

You ripped your hand from his grip, surprising him, and he opened his eyes quickly. Had he thought he’d gone too far? The concern on his face made you giggle. He lifted a lip in a sneer and growled at you, and before you knew it he had pulled you back into bed, kissing you, before finally letting you go. 

You started to dress yourself and he _moaned_ about it. You were out of your mind. _Who was this man? Er, vampire._

“What do you want for breakfast?” you asked. 

“Regis will make it,” he replied, “he always does.” 

You shivered involuntarily. 

“But if he doesn’t, what do you want?” you pushed.

“For you to come back to bed.” he mumbled into his pillow. 

You were trying to stifle your giggle, but it couldn’t be done. “Well, I’m going to go feed Mers.”

“I will be out shortly,” he replied. 

“You don’t have to,” you informed him, but he was already getting up. He looked at you intensely and you swallowed. A smile crept around his eyes. 

“Oh but I will,” he informed you, “if I want my breakfast.” 

Your insides were still on fire as you walked over to Mers with a mound of carrots in your arms and when he saw you his read went _buckwild_. You laughed at him, and grabbed his harness to pull his head back down before offering him his first carrot. You fully intended feeding him each one by one. It was a sunny day out, again, and the heat was back with it. 

You started humming absentmindedly, and it wasn’t long until you felt Dettlaff’s energy present itself. It was so intense that you startled and turned around, causing him to stop dead in his tracks, and you realized what it felt like. It _felt_ like you had just caught him _hunting_ you. Your heartbeat quickened and you turned around. His hands went to your shoulders and engulfed them completely.

“May I?” he whispered into your ear. 

You nodded, and you felt him bite down into your neck, he _moaned_ from it. You felt incredibly aroused from all of this, and just let yourself drop the rest of the carrots to grab one of his hands that held your shoulder. He moaned again. 

Then the unmistakable sound of hooves filled the air and you froze. You felt Dettlaff’s fangs retract and you turned around. Geralt was riding up on Roach and had something in his hand. He stopped at the sight of you two. 

He looked at you dumbfounded. “Is everything alright?” 

The energy emanating from Dettlaff had taken a seriously deadly turn. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him turn, his face was hardly recognizable as he looked at Geralt. 

“Yes, _witcher_ ,” he replied. 

“I was talking to Maina,” Geralt told him, bringing Roach in closer. 

“I’m fine, Geralt,” you intervened quickly. He looked between you and Dettlaff, and must have decided that he believed you. 

“Well,” he said, looking to Dettlaff, “I guess we’re all okay, then.” He slid off of Roach and walked over to you, you ran up and gave him a hug. “You look a _lot_ better, Maina.” 

“Thanks,” you replied. “I don’t know what it was, but yesterday I just woke up feeling better.” 

“I know, that’s why I left you in your bed,” he laughed, “figured you could sweat up your own for a time.” 

You went a little rigid at the talk of bed swapping, and judging by his energy, Dettlaff picked up on it. You thought he was going to get angry, or aggressive, even, but he just cleared his throat and excused himself, eyeing Geralt as he went. 

“Jesus _Christ_ that guy,” Geralt said, exhaling as you walked around the trail of the graveyard. “Is he going to kill me or what?” 

You laughed, “no, he isn’t going to _kill_ you.” 

After you said it, though, you realized that you weren’t so certain he wouldn’t.

“Yeah, well,” he started, then blurted, “I’m sorry but was he just drinking your _blood_ , Maina?”

You felt your face flush as you looked at the ground. “He _is_ a vampire, Geralt.”

“Um, holy _shit_ .” He replied, eyes widening. “That doesn’t _bother_ you?”

“What?” you asked, “Why would it? He’s not trying to literally _eat_ me or anything.” 

“But _why?_ ” he asked. 

“I don’t know, Geralt. Instinct, I guess.” 

“Oh, my, god.” 

“I think it’s sexy, honestly.” you added.

“For fucks sake, Maina, _how_?” he asked. 

“I don’t know, y’know? When you love someone, you just-”

“ _Love?_ Oh, my, god.” He put his hands into his face, “Yen is going to absolutely _murder_ me.” 

You started laughing, “stop being so dramatic, Geralt.”

“She’s coming here in like, a month and a half, you know.” He replied. 

“I really don’t think she’ll care.”

“Maina, most people care when it comes to higher-fucking-vampires. I mean other than Regis they’re mostly volatile.” 

“That sounded exceptionally bigoted, Geralt.” He looked at you like you just told him something truly ridiculous. “And you should maybe know, since he’s your friend, that Regis relapsed.” You weren’t sure if that was exactly the correct way to put it, but it seemed Geralt knew exactly what you were talking about.

“Fuck,” he said. The two of you were just getting to the next bench, he motioned to sit. “I thought maybe that was what happened.” 

You looked at him, “what do you mean?”

He shrugged. “I just know Regis, and he hasn’t seemed well ever since,” he looked away, “I don’t know.” 

“Since Dettlaff and I,” you finished for him. “How bad is it? I mean, how bad was it before that he even had to stop completely?”

“I’ve never known him as a blood drunk, Maina, so truthfully I can’t say.” He frowned. “I know he quit because one time he had drunk so much blood that he blacked out, murdered most of a town and when he woke up, he had been drawn and quartered,” your mouth dropped open. Geralt looked at you. “ _Yeah._ Said it took him nearly a century to regenerate. Described it as the worst hangover in his life.” 

You were absolutely speechless. To think of Regis cutting through a town, _killing_ random people. You shivered. 

“That was a _long_ time ago, Maina,” he continued, putting a hand on your knee, “he’s changed...and,” he sighed, reluctantly, “and I doubt you have any need to worry about getting hurt.” He looked around, “Not with your blood coursing through the veins of the Alpha of all Alpha over there.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Don’t tell him I said that,” Geralt warned, before producing a package and a letter. “These are for you, I’m guessing they’re both from Yen. If you haven’t already, you might want to tell her about your new lifestyle.” 

“I know,” you replied, it was your time to be reluctant, “it’s just difficult to put into words how it all happened.” 

Standing, he whistled to roach and put a hand on your shoulder, “Trust me, you’re going to want to try.”

You walked back down to the Crow Building and found that in the time you had been gone, Dettlaff seemingly downed a tree and chopped (sliced?) it into firewood. You felt his energy surround you and before you knew it, you were back in his arms. 

“I do not like the witcher,” he informed you, kissing your neck.  
“I can tell,” you replied, he looked at you challengingly, you looked back. “Why don’t you like him?”

He sighed, opening the door with a nudge of his back, “he looks at you like a child who is up to no good.”

You laughed at that, and recalled thinking something along those lines before. “Yeah,” you said between chuckles, “he _does_. But we’re friends, what do you expect?”

He cocked his head, “You are _his_ friend?”

“Yes,” you replied, “his _best_ friend, even.” 

“Oh,” he replied, you felt him relax, “I apologize, then.” 

You looked up at him and saw that he was blushing. 

“It’s okay,” you told him, as he walked you into the kitchen, “It can be hard to tell with other people, sometimes.” 

This seemed to lift his mood quite a bit.

“It can,” he replied, looking at you as he sat you on the counter. His chest looking full of pride, again, and he kissed you, passionately. _Fuck_. He was so goddamn good at it, too. 

You were just getting to the point of telling him that you both needed to go somewhere _now_ when you heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. The two of you broke apart. Regis was standing in the doorway. Dettlaff’s body seemed to tighten. You blushed. 

“Hi Regis,” you greeted him smiling, “how are you today?”

His eyes searched yours for a long time before he smiled back, but when he did, it looked like he truly meant it. “I am feeling a bit better, thank you.” 

He walked over to the dried meats, cheeses, and vegetables. “I think we could use some chickens, Maina,” he said, looking over the spread, “I do prefer eggs in the morning. What do you think?”

You smiled motioning to Dettlaff that you were alright. He let the two of you be. 

“I think chickens would be perfect,” you replied, “can you hand me the salami?” 

He arched a brow at you as he handed it over, “at this time of day?” 

You shrugged, “I’m pregnant.” He chuckled. 

“I’m sorry,” he told you and the bluntness surprised you. You were slightly taken aback, truth be told. 

“Oh Regis,” you jumped down off the counter. You didn’t know if this was a good idea or a bad idea or rude to him or not, but you went and hugged him. It was just automatic. “You don’t need to be sorry to me.”

You felt his body still and you released him immediately, “Sorry,” you said quickly.

He was looking at you in a way you were unsure of, there seemed to be too many emotions going on in him at once, or you were simply unable to read your friend. 

You wished you could read his energy right now. 

He seemed to relax a bit, after searching your eyes again. “No,” he replied, “ _thank_ you.” He frowned, “I do admit, though, that I might need more time, befo-” 

“Oh!” you blushed again, and then thought about what blushing _was_ and blushed harder. The blood seemed to be draining out of Regis’ face, and his eyes were slowly unfocusing. “Right, I’ll leave you to it, then.” You swallowed, _hard_ as you quickly grabbed the package Geralt gave you and shut the kitchen door behind you. 

Dettlaff was standing in the hallway, leaning up against the wall coolly. He looked up at you lazily but hardened when he saw your expression. 

“I’m fine,” you insisted in a whisper and walked by him. You were shaking. Regis had looked... _hungry_. 

“Maina,” he caught your hand, gently, you pivoted on your heel. 

“ _What?_ ” you asked angrily, and he recoiled from your backlash. “I’m sorry,” you squeezed his hand back, your anger immediately melting from you, “I’m sorry, Dettlaff.” 

The large vampire looked down at you hesitantly, as if _you_ were the apex predator. You hugged him. 

“I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled,” you held him tighter. “I was scared, and I get angry when I feel like I’m losing control.” 

You were shocked at the ease of which you conveyed that message to him. You were shocked to find that you were able to identify _how you felt._ Were _you_ better at communication around _him,_ too? You felt him return the embrace. Jeez, all _three of you_ were having quite the day. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked you. 

“No,” you assured him, “no, you were brilliant. I’ll work on that, I promise.” 

He looked down at you and brushed the side of your face with his hand. “Okay.” 

\- 

_Maina,_

_Here is a book about summoning familiars and communicating through Ailma. Now that you know of another living thing that is not only aware of your energy, but seeks it out and reads it, you can practice communicating with it. It is imperative, however, to understand the behavior of animals and what your physical responses are to situations, as a human. Thus, you will find that communicating through physical responses (deep breathing, shallow breathing, yawning, slowly closing and opening your eyes, etc.) is effective at informing your familiar counterpart how you are feeling and what you need from them. Eventually they will start to pick up on nuances in your energy, and it is possible for them to learn certain requests, but it will take time. You will need to start practicing speaking to your familiar._

_I am hoping that you will make short work of this, as I may have a favor to ask of you when the time comes. Possibly by the time I am in Toussaint._

_Yennefer of Vengerberg_

You rolled over in the grass and grabbed at the package, ripping it open. Inside was a brown leather bound book with no title, nothing on the spine, no markings whatsoever save for a funny circular symbol on the front cover. 

“Well,” you thought, “here goes nothing.” 

The rest of the afternoon you spent reading through the first three chapters of the book, which was densely informational. Several times you had considered riding into (or convincing a certain vampire of transporting you to) Beauclair to visit a book or tome shoppe, and maybe a new dictionary. Regis prevented you from going into his study and you didn’t want to send Dettlaff in there, either, since he seemed to be in a mood about Regis since the incident this morning. 

Part of you felt absolutely _absurd_ thinking about doing half of what the book told you to do, which were things like hiss, blink at the speed of which a dying old cow chews cud, and make yourself hyperventilate. Another part of you felt guilty for feeling that way because half of those actions were things that the _father of your future children_ all did on a daily basis. 

You sighed, then thought again, and tried out a hiss. It didn’t sound right. It sounded muffled and weird. You reached out with your energy and felt _nothing._ You stood up and tried to make yourself hyperventilate, poorly. You then went on to breathing heavily and reached out while doing so. 

You heard something behind you and hairs stood up on the back of your neck, then you felt it. You felt the cat reading your energy. You _knew_ it was her. You didn’t know how you knew, but you did. You tried to slow your breathing and become calm, you felt her take in your energy. 

Then there was a pang in your stomach and you buckled over. “ _Fuck.”_ You groaned, something wasn’t feeling right down there. You looked over to the door and thought it looked _so far._ Now you _were_ panicking. You wanted Dettlaff to come get you but your abdomen was doing that funny thing where it was trying to steal your breath again. “Eh,” the pain was so sharp that you really _couldn’t_ breath well. You reached out with your energy again. To anything. You heard something rustle in the bushes and you swore you saw a black figure standing in the brush. You kept pushing your energy further. “Come on... _come on…”_

You were crying, tears were rolling down your face as you scrunched it up awkwardly and let yourself fall over on your side. Your body was so taught that for a moment you thought you should have shattered like glass as you hit the ground. You tried to reach out again. 

“Maina,” you heard his deep voice growl as a fanged and clawed Dettlaff reached down and lifted you up. He rid himself of his claws with some effort, it looked like, but his face was all monsterish still. His breathing was wild. He brought you inside and put you on the bed, you reached out and touched that face. You hadn’t seen him like this in so long. Then he was gone and back again, Regis in tow, looking tired as ever. Dettlaff’s body was rippling, it looked like. Suddenly you felt _wet._ The bed felt wet, your pants felt wet. _Oh god._ You were really crying now the pain coming back into focus. 

Regis was kneeling at your side, he had tools of some sort out. You couldn’t focus on them. 

“Oh my god,” you cried. You could feel tears streaming down your face. Suddenly Dettlaff was back next to you, seeming to have regained control of his composure. His face was back to the one you knew best. He took your hand and you squeezed it.  
“Breathe, Maina,” he said to you, imploringly. You looked at him and tried to focus on his eyes, but your insides felt like they were pinching in an awful way, and you started to ball. “Regis!” he growled. “ _Do_ something.” His octave was so low that you weren’t certain if you were hearing it or _feeling_ it. 

His thumb wiped away the tears on your face and he put his head next to yours. Regis was prodding you but you couldn’t tell what was him and what wasn’t through the pain. When he stood up his hands were bloodied, but his demeanor was cool. He looked at you and you could only know what it meant. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see anymore, and you simply cried. 

Eyes shut, you cried through the door opening and closing, you cried through Dettlaff heating water and undressing you, through him carrying you to the bath and sitting there with you. You didn’t see any of it. You just cried. There were moments of relief, when you let yourself focus on what your hands were feeling, or how the air smelled, or the little light behind your eyelids, but those moments were broken too soon each time by the reality of what had just happened, and it happened so _quickly._ And you weren't sure why. Then you wondered if it was because you were trying to communicate your energy. Was it because you tried to hyperventilate? The thought made you wail into his chest. 

“Shhhhh,” he said into your hair, and picked you up and dried you off; “Shhhhh,” he said as he tucked you into bed with him and held you close. You held him back and asked him why, and he held you tighter. 

You told him that it was your fault, that you had tried to use Ailma to speak to a _cat_ and because of that you lost the…you couldn’t finish the thought. You wondered if you had been right to think of how ridiculous this all was. That you had no right doing what you were doing or...you weren’t sure. It didn’t feel _wrong,_ though, to try, you _wanted this_ , and that made you cry even more. 

Finally, sometime in the evening, you woke up from a sleep that you did not remember slipping into, and Dettlaff stirred next to you, still cupping your face and observing you. He looked desperate. 

“Did you see it?” you asked him, your voice a croak. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. 

“Was it human?”

“I could not tell,” he replied, eyes still shut, “I...I am sorry, Maina. I'm sorry for all of this.”

He took a deep breath and exhaled. “There is another, but it is weak and…” he stopped and held you tighter, “Regis is going to get the right medicine for you. He thinks he can help you keep the other.”

You looked at him, and felt your stomach. “Two?”

Dettlaff looked at you, gutted, “One, now.” His voice was distant. “I can’t let anything happen to you, Maina. It is a _need_.” He looked at you, his eyes pleading and neither you sure of what the answer could be. “Will you listen to what Regis tells you is best?”

“Of course, Dettlaff.” 

“Thank you,” he set his head down on your chest. He felt funny to you. Different. He felt closer. Maybe you were becoming in tune with him. You were _so_ tired. You were worried, you were worried that what you had left wouldn’t make it. It didn’t matter to you if it was human or a bat or...you didn’t care. It was _yours_ . It was _the both of yours._

And you wanted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW's miscarriage, some aftermath of miscarriage, naked people in bathtubs, usual swearing.


	13. Dettlaff's Other Form

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maina makes a mistake in the wake of misfortune and resolves to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW at the end. OH, and there will be new art in the art chapter after this and in the last chapter. :). And there's art in this chapter! Yay!
> 
> There’s a couple things about the piece in this chapter that I want to change but I might just keep it as is. SHRUUUUUUG. Enjoy!

You woke up the next morning feeling very much the same as the night before. Dettlaff was laying next to you in bed, unmoving, though you weren’t convinced that he was asleep. 

Last night before bed, though you were certainly  _ in  _ bed, Regis came to tell the two of you that your miscarry had been a Katakan. You had asked if the other was likely to be the same or if it would be human-vampire, and Regis told you that he couldn’t say with any real certainty  _ what  _ it would be. 

Then _ it _ happened.

You’d told Dettlaff that you were relieved that it wasn’t humanoid. It was _stupid_. It was so, _so_ _stupid,_ but unfortunately you didn’t realize this until Dettlaff turned quiet. Nearly the kind of quiet he used to be when you first met. You tried to explain yourself, how you wanted a human vampire baby, badly, not that you didn’t care about the others. The words didn’t sound great coming out of your mouth, and as you spoke them you realized that you were being insensitive, even cruel. He stiffened, and held you, but he felt _distant_. 

You looked at him now in the morning light and decided that it looked like he hadn’t slept at all. 

“Good morning,” you greeted him, trying to scoot your way under his arm; it didn’t take long before he stopped your struggle and put it around you. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, turning his head towards you, but his eyes were on your mouth, then the bed, then somewhere off behind you. You frowned. 

“I’m...okay,” you answered, looking down at yourself. You wanted to cry thinking about it. It felt like a dark cloud had moved itself somewhere deep within your body, and you didn’t know where to find it to get it out. You didn’t want to cry again, and the guilt you felt knowing that you were more worried about  _ this  _ baby making it than the one you lost made you feel even worse. You wanted to call it optimism for the future- looking ahead, even, but you knew what it was. You wanted a human baby...or, a human-vampire baby, rather. But it’s not like you  _ just  _ wanted that. 

Well, okay you had preferred that, but now seeing how Dettlaff was about your more vampirish offspring...er,  _ babies? _ You wanted to take all of those feelings back. What you lost last night was still partly you, partly Dettlaff and…

You were crying, again. 

He wrapped you in his arms tighter, and kissed the top of your head. 

“I am so sorry, Maina,” he began, his low voice sounded huskier than normal, and you were pretty certain he was holding back his tears, as well. “We will have time, to have a human child,” he stroked your hair before adding, “that is what we are aiming for.” 

It was difficult for you to speak through your tears, especially now that you’d lost the function of your nose and didn’t have anything to blow it into to correct that. You wiped away some of your tears, and tried to push that dark cloud somewhere hidden, for now. 

“Dettlaff,” you rubbed your nose on your forearm, “I won’t  _ only  _ love the huma-”

“They are the ones that will improve your life expectancy the most.” He interrupted, blankly staring at the ceiling. You wanted to cry now, because you were worried you’d lost some of his love, and you wanted that caring. That regard. You were pretty certain you wanted that  _ more  _ than children. Wanting children was, well, pretty new to you. 

Unfortunately the two were tied to each other, if you wanted to be with him for any significant amount of time. You looked up at him and he was still off somewhere else. He just wouldn’t look at you. Or couldn’t. You touched his face and brought it down next to yours and he looked at you for a moment, then down and closed his eyes. 

“Please talk to me,” you brushed his cheek with your thumb, “I know that I had said the wrong thing last night, and, and now I feel differently about it, even. I didn’t know, Dettlaff. I didn’t know that it was important to you.” 

You saw a tear roll out of his closed eyelids and down his cheek. He nodded, and hugged you again. 

That wasn’t an answer, but it was  _ something _ . You wished that you were hugging him, or had your arms around  _ his  _ shoulders to be comforting to  _ him _ . You wanted to cry again. 

“I am going to go for a walk today.” He said over your head, before getting up, putting on his clothes, and leaving the room in silence. 

You laid in bed and cried. 

It was late afternoon and Dettlaff still wasn’t back, and you were still in bed. You couldn’t feel Mers and you weren’t sure why that was, though you figured it was probably because you were simply full up on emotions and couldn’t feel anyone else’s. You idly wondered if this morning’s black cloud was yours, or Dettlaff’s, or a combination of the two. 

How could you make this up to him? You were so wildly out of your element about how or where to even begin. How could you prove to him that you would love your children,  _ his  _ children. You wanted to cry. Of course you would. 

But that’s not what you had proven to him last night. You told him you were  _ relieved  _ that it was a Katakan.  _ He’s a  _ fucking  _ vampire Maina. That’s essentially part of his contribution to your children and you told him you were  _ relieved  _ it wasn’t human.  _ You were crying. 

After you had put on your trousers, you sat back onto bed. Dettlaff had thrown away the sheets, and the mattress, and replaced them with the ones that had been in the room  _ he _ ’d stayed in before Fox Hollow.  _ He probably  _ is  _ going to make a great father.  _ You sniffled. 

You stood up and decided to go find Regis. 

The study was beginning to get cold again as the fire you built began to… come to a close. You were staring at the bookshelf, not really paying attention to anything or thinking about anything when he finally walked in. 

“Maina,” Regis’ said somewhere behind you, “you should be in bed.” 

You turned from the bookshelf and couldn’t look at him.  _ Had  _ he  _ spoken to Dettlaff?  _ How cruel would Regis think it was of you? You looked at his feet. His shoes always reminded you of a little piper boy’s _.  _

“Regis, I need your help.” You looked at him, finally, and saw that his expression was expectant. You wagered that Dettlaff probably told him, or he sensed it, or...  _ ‘He’s like, four hundred years old and has been around the block’,  _ Geralt’s voice said inside your head. You shook it. You were just going to have to blurt this out. “Regis I said something terribly insensitive and just,  _ wrong  _ to Dettlaff last night about our children. About the,” you paused, “what we lost,”

“ _ Cub, _ ” Regis offered reverently, “ _ Baby _ , too, would suffice.” 

_ Ouch.  _

“The  _ baby _ we lost. I,” you inhaled and closed your eyes, not wanting to look at his knowing face anymore, “I told him that I was relieved it wasn’t human. Humanoid.” You exhaled. 

Regis wasn’t saying anything, so you opened your eyes and saw that Regis looked profoundly saddened. Not in the same way he had been looking - that defeated, confused or lost look, like he wasn’t really  _ there _ . No, now he looked actively  _ heart broken.  _

“Maina,” he extended his hand, “I will permit you to go on  _ one  _ short walk - albeit it must be with me, and it must be right now.” 

You nodded and took his hand. The two of you walked up the hill to the south of the crow building and sat next to each other on an old stone above-ground grave. It was sunset, and there seemed to be little other life teeming around the place. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind you had the novel thought that you truly would prefer not living in a graveyard. 

“Maina how much do you know about higher vampires, such as True Higher Vampires like Dettlaff and I,” he held up a finger at your readiness to speak, “but also the likes of higher vampires such as Katakans, Alps, Bruxa, and Nosferats?”

Your mouth closed and you blushed. “Nearly nothing.” 

In all honesty, you didn’t even know that these species were even known as higher vampires. You thought any vampire that wasn’t a true higher vampire was just...a  _ lower  _ vampire. Even thinking the name made you feel guilty. 

“Well, Maina,” he began, looking around at the trees and the reds of the late sky, “they are all species of higher vampire, by classification, and they’re all grouped as such because a human found that their intelligence was similar, or superior, to their own.” His eyes swayed from the trees to yours, arching a brow. “Which was a very human thing for them to do.”

Your face grew warm and your blush deepened. You pushed out thoughts of last night, but your hand reflexively went to the small of your belly. Regis took notice and put his arm around you, and you put your head on his shoulder before you found that your cheeks were wet again.

“Please don’t be too hard on yourself, though, Maina,” Regis gave you a sympathetic look. “You are an incredibly accepting and loving human. One that is very intelligent, and can see beyond others’ prejudices, even her own. If you were not this person, I would not consider you my friend.” 

You smiled, meekly. Still feeling awful. You appreciated his condolences, though.

“Katakans are spectacular vampires, Maina. I think that you would have been very proud of yours.” 

Something started burning in your chest and you openly started crying. Regis rubbed your shoulder. 

“You will be a great mother, Maina.” Regis told you. “I am  _ certain  _ of this. Besides, it is natural to care more for organisms that share similar traits, including that of physical markers. For instance, you may enjoy the company of something that has arms and legs over wings and claws. It is an evolutionary tactic and one that humans are particularly fond of.” He gave you a small, sad, but hopeful smile. “Again, I insist that you go easy on yourself.” 

You returned the smile gratefully. He patted your shoulder again.

“How do I make it up to Dettlaff?” you asked. He sighed. 

He went quiet, and claimed back his arm in order to pinch the bridge of his nose between his finger and his thumb. Finally he clapped his hands and stood up. 

“So,” he began pacing, slightly, his hand on his satchel’s strap, “we’ve covered that higher vampires have similar intelligence, even if katakans are large, batlike creatures. Yes?” You nodded, he nodded back, still pacing. It looked as if he made to say something more than once, but every time he stopped and went back to pacing. Then he altogether gave up on walking and sat back down. 

“Maina, forgive me if I am wrong,” he began, frowning, “but if I had to guess, Dettlaff hasn’t shared with you how he spent the last five years before meeting you, has he?”

It was your turn to frown, you shook your head. What could this have to do with proving to him that you would love his children?

Regis was still quiet, so you clarified, “No, he hasn’t.” 

“Have you seen his other form?” he asked. 

“Yes, Regis, I’ve seen both of you in-”

Regis was shaking his head ‘no’. 

“Wait,” you started, “what do you mean,  _ other  _ form?”

In the back of your memory was a camp outside of Fox Hollow and Regis saying too much, letting a word slip.

_ Transitional _ . 

That had been what he was going to say, after all. That those were their  _ transitional  _ forms. 

“What are your…?” You swallowed, not knowing how to word what you wanted to ask. Not knowing how you were going to feel about the answer. Another form? How many different faces did Dettlaff have? Was this one sure to be gruesome?  
Would it look like a Katakan?  
Your stomach turned, but not out of disgust about the possibility of Dettlaff turning into a.. _.not a monster. You will_ not _do that to him..._ turning into a bat? _Good god how am I going to explain this to Yen?_

“Well, it’s not Dettlaff’s form, but I can show you mine. if you promise to stay calm, and relax, and know that I will not hurt you.” 

You tried to speak but, all you could do was nod. 

Regis stood and excused himself to the back of a small crypt, and after some time, you heard the rustling of leaves, a branch breaking and then, a voice. 

A deep and rumbling voice. It kind of sounded like Dettlaff, only it was different. It seemed far away, but close all the same. 

Then he walked out from his hiding place, and you saw him. Regis was standing in front of you and he in no way, shape, or form, resembled Regis. 

He was nearly the size of Mers, you thought, and hairy. No,  _ furry _ . He had a blunt snout, huge years, and instead of arms, he had wings. Standing in front of you was a leviathan of an anthropomorphic vampire bat. 

And that bat was  _ Regis.  _

“Regis?” you asked. You knew it was him but you still asked. 

“Yes,” he replied. His voice didn’t sound anything like Dettlaff, now that you heard it right. It was...screechier but still low, almost haunting. And it was still very much Regis’ voice. 

“Whoa,” you said. 

The great bat returned to its hiding place, and a few minutes later, Regis slowly walked out from behind the crypt. 

“Well?” He asked, “haven’t scared you out of being friends, have I?”

You were surprised that he sounded nervous. He was trying to make light of this, but you could tell that he was also truly afraid you weren’t going to like him anymore. Or you were going to be afraid of him, or disgusted by him. 

You were taking a long time to answer and he was beginning to shuffle his feet. You looked at him, took a deep breath, and offered him a smile. 

“Of course not, Regis. You are my friend.” You assured him, and confidently, because it was  _ true _ . He must have sensed that, because he came and reclaimed his spot next to you on the make-shift bench, and that made your heart swell. However, this was a  _ lot _ to take in. He said it wasn’t like Dettlaff’s form...you wondered what kind of bat  _ he  _ turned into. You felt your hairs stand up on the back of your neck, and you hoped Regis didn’t notice. Your heart sank further. Before you thought you had rejected a potential anomaly in Dettlaff’s reproductive abilities, but now you see how natural producing something like a Katakan would be for them. A question came to your mind.

“Which form are you born into?” 

Regis looked at you as if you’d surprised him with the question, before replying “We are born like this.” He made a motion with his arms indicating himself. You nodded. 

“Are you still...y’know, the  _ same _ when you’re in that form? Does your personality change?” You asked. 

“We are the same.” Regis replied. “The difference is that we tend to change into those forms when the need for such form arises, but we are the same. Some of our senses are enhanced, however, while others are dulled.”

You nodded again, and thought about this all. The two of you sat like this in the sunset until after it was retired, in silent contemplation. Finally, Regis stood up, and, offering you his hand, made your way back to the crow building. It wasn’t until he was starting the fire in your room that you remembered something. 

“Dettlaff spent five years like that?” you asked. 

Regis poked at the fire before putting the pot of water over it. You saw the back of his head nod up and down. “Yes, but I believe he’s spent...what? Sixty to seventy years in his other forms altogether.” He chuckled, “I remember when I didn’t see him looking like he does now for about thirty some odd years.” He looked turned around to grab a vial of something black and goopy, before turning around and adding it to the pot. “ _ That  _ span was a long time ago, though.” 

He grabbed another container, opened it, and added four or five of what looked to be tiny periwinkle blossoms. “You have to understand, though, Maina, that Dettlaff is more bestial than I am. Even more so than many Alps and Bruxae. He is happier now, that he is with you, his  _ one.”  _ He stopped to smell the mixture, before slightly wincing and walking over to your bedside table. “I  _ will  _ say, however,” he smiled, pouring it into the cup that somehow became communally known as your medicine vessel, “that I do find it rather ironic his Acern Ara turned out to be  _ human,  _ of all creatures.” He winked at you. 

You knew he was being playful, but you wanted to cry. 

“When will he be back?” you asked, hopefully. 

Regis frowned at that, “I doubt very long. He probably hasn’t gone far, unless I do not know him as well as I think I do.” He looked at you, and sighed. “I will go see if I can find him, for you.”

Your heart jumped. “Thank you so much, Regis.”

Regis gave you a smile, grabbed his ingredients, watched you drink your medicine, then wished you goodnight. 

He hadn’t looked hungry at all. 

-

You woke up the next day and Dettlaff wasn’t in bed. He hadn’t been when you fell asleep the night before, either. You wanted to cry again. You  _ were  _ going to cry, you could feel it. That dark cloud was making its rounds again and you wanted to scream into your pillow. But you had to be calm. You looked outside and saw Mers eating. 

_ Well, I still have Mers.  _ You smiled. 

You spent most of the day with him, but early afternoon you felt faint and went back to bed. You slept well into the evening. When you woke up, you started building a fire, your heart was starting to beat faster as you began panicking over  _ his _ whereabouts.

Just then, the door to the room opened, and Dettlaff walked in, tall, and dark, and handsome, and probably hurt and...

And that did it, you could feel the tears coming on. 

You ran over to him and hugged him something fierce. You were balling. 

“I’m so sorry,” you cried. You felt a large hand touch your hair. When he spoke he sounded surprised. 

“Maina?” His eyes fluttered about your face, searching your expression, before looking away. He let you go. “Regis told me that you went to speak to him.” 

“Yes.” 

“He told me that you,” he paused as if he was wondering what to say. He ran his hand behind his ear, then, hesitantly finished with, “that he showed you something.” 

“Yes,” you answered, and his gaze snapped to you. “And he told me about other higher vampires...and, I didn’t know. I hadn’t known katakans are higher vampires and…” you stopped. His eyes were dangerous, his face looking fierce. It wasn’t directed _towards you,_ though. Somehow, it seemed like it was towards _himself_. Your heart skipped. His chest was heaving. You had absolutely no idea what his body language was telling you. It was tense, rigid, he looked like he could attack or flee or... _Oh. Fuck._

You’d been so preoccupied about your future children and making sure he knew that you’d love them that you forgot how he’d feel about himself. How he’d think  _ you’d  _ feel about him.

“I’m sorry,” you said. 

“It is fine,” he replied, seeming agitated as he fiddled with his shirt sleeves, rolling them up. He scratched his jaw, and was pacing. You backed up slightly, until you realized that your back had found the wall. “I understand.”

“You understand?” you asked, confused.

“Yes,  _ human _ ,” he replied. He had stopped pacing and was looking at the fire. You didn’t know what it was about the way he was standing, or the way he had spoken the word  _ human _ , but for some reason, you couldn’t move. You went to open your mouth, but found that it was very dry. You lifted your hand to reach out for him, but realized he was across the room and your feet weren’t listening to you. 

“I am a  _ vampire,  _ Maina.” His voice was low and unstable. “I cannot be anything else.” 

“I will love our children, Dettlaff.” It wasn’t what you had tried to say, but it was what came out. You saw the fire dance off the side of his face as he turned it ever so slightly towards you. He didn’t look convinced. He looked angry and scared. You were crying. You didn’t know what to say and you felt horrible. “I...I still mourn the loss of our...baby. It was ours, katakan or human. Regis told me he thinks I would have been proud of our Katakan, and I agree.” Tears were rolling down your face. “I didn’t know how to save it and I wanted to escape the pain, Dettlaff.” Your eyes  _ burned _ . “I did it the wrong way. And I didn’t know. I didn’t know that that was a part of  _ you _ .” 

Your body slumped over and you cried into your knees on the floor. “I’m sorry that I’m human.” 

There, on the floor you cried until at last two large hands picked you up. He was still so distant. Why?  _ Why?  _ You knew him, and you knew that words didn’t mean nearly as much as actions. 

“Dettlaff,” you said, cupping his face, “you are important to me, and because of that I can’t sit here and watch you drift away from me.” You took a deep breath, “I will be calm, but you need to show me. Please show me.”

He cocked his head to the side, looking at you before realization colored his face. “Absolutely not, Maina.” 

It was your turn to be angry and you could feel it building inside you. You wanted to shout at him for being an absolute  _ idiot  _ for thinking that you wouldn’t care about him or want to be around him and his stupid beautiful thoughtful, considerate, oblivious, sweet, wise,  _ fuck.  _ You took a deep breath and remembered why he was refusing. He was afraid. You looked up at him, and touched his cheek. Taking a slow, deep breath to stabilize  _ yourself  _ first. Then, you stood on your tiptoes and put your forehead to his, in a wordless invitation to close his eyes with you and breathe, if only for a moment. 

He accepted the invitation, and, after your feet started to cramp a little from being on your tiptoes, you broke the embrace and looked up at him. “Trust me, please. You can show me.” 

He looked into your eyes for a long time, then squeezed your arms and hung his head on your chest. 

“I can’t change back immediately like Regis can.” He frowned, “I’ll be like that for the rest of the night.” 

You looked up at him and smiled reassuringly, “I can handle that.”

“This is a bad idea,” he said. He stood there for what felt like forever before finally finding his resolve. He rubbed your arms. “Are you ready?” 

“Wait,” you stopped him, “can you do that? Take me with you like this, with?”

“This is natural for it,” he replied simply, his hand started moving towards the small of your belly, but then he stopped it. You felt a tight pain in your chest.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere further away from humans,” he told you in your ear.

-

The two of you were standing inside a cave, the opening of which showed the Beauclair palace in the distance below.  _ Far  _ below. You looked around you. The cave was an  _ actual  _ dwelling. There was what looked like a giant makeshift bed on the cold hard floor of it, and candles strewn about next to them, already lit.

“Where are we?” you asked. 

He walked to you and hugged you. Avoiding giving you the answer, or trying to assuage his own nerves, asked, “Are you certain about this?”

You looked up at his face and his eyes looked so  _ worried.  _ But there was something else there, too, there was hope. What’s more, he had actual tears in his eyes. 

“It’s not like it can be that different from Regis,” you said, optimistically. 

He frowned,  _ deeply.  _

“Maina,” he started, “I’m…” 

You pushed up his chin as it started to drop to his chest, again, encouraging him to continue his thought. You looked at him. “Yes?”

“I am different from Regis.” You didn’t think that that was all he had to say, but you didn’t know if you wanted to push him to say more, if you  _ should  _ push him to say more. Your eyes locked, and he continued. “I...I think I am different from many of my kind.” 

“How so?”

“I…” His frown deepened. 

“You don’t need to answer this right now,” you offered. He looked at you and you couldn’t believe that his expression was that of you missing a joke. You planted your feet firmly. “I’m ready.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Wait,” you grabbed his hand, “give me a kiss first.” 

For a moment he looked so lost that you weren’t certain that he’d heard you, but then his eyes closed, and he bit down so hard on his lip that it started to bleed. He grabbed both of your arms, and kissed you with a stiff mouth, and you felt something wet on your lips. 

“Stand back, please,” he whispered hoarsely. 

You stood back until your heels hit the foot of the old mattress, and you watched as he removed his shirt and his pants. “You probably shouldn’t watch it happen.” 

You turned around, then, and you heard the smallest sounds of your life. It began with different pops that made you jump, then actual  _ cracking  _ noises started. You winced, and looked completely forward, only, dancing off of the wall was the shadow of something perverse, it was growing larger, and larger, and there were too many legs, or arms; it grew until it was no longer a shadow and instead a dark cave wall. You finally felt an energy, the first you had since...you shook your head. It was easy to read...or so you thought, at least. Maybe it was just an intense emotion he was feeling, and if so, he was feeling absolutely terrified. Which was already kind of how you felt, so…

“You may turn around.” You jumped at the voice that rang out through the cave. It was  _ deep  _ and ancient sounding. It felt as if it sprung up out the depths of the very earth and rock you stood upon, not out of a body. 

But there was no mistaking that the voice belonged to Dettlaff. You breathed, calming the rapid beating of your heart. You looked up at the shadowed wall and started to turn around. 

“Maina,” you shivered as he said your name, and you finished turning to see the gigantic being flinch, before wrapping itself up in its  _ wings. His  _ wings. 

_ Dettlaff’s _ wings. You looked up at him. He was... _ huge _ . He was bigger than any living thing you’d ever seen, you thought. He didn’t have any eyes. He had two long limbs that were neither wings, nor arms, sticking up from his back. They looked like  _ hooks _ on arms, honestly. He was wrapped up in his wings. You’d seen him like this before. 

“I’ve dreamt of you like this,” you told him. 

He cocked his large head at you, and for a second you wanted to laugh because of how very  _ Dettlaff  _ that was, but then the uncanniness of his eyeless face struck a nerve and you winced. Then  _ he  _ winced, you felt his energy get more frightened. 

“It’s  _ okay _ , I’m  _ okay, _ ” you swallowed, “I’m okay, Dettlaff.” He stilled at the sound of his name. His wings started to unfold about his body, revealing two very long arms, and a very broad chest. His hands were huge, and his claws were even  _ bigger _ . He was bald about his head and body, and completely naked. He looked nothing like a bat, you thought, save for the wings. 

“Do you sleep here?” you asked. 

“I have,” he replied, rewrapping himself up, “I stayed here, for awhile.” 

It was beyond absurd speaking to a giant living nightmare about whether or not he sleeps in the cave on the side of the mountain that you were both currently standing in. 

It was even  _ more  _ absurd that you were pregnant with the giant living nightmare and wanted him to know how much you cared about him. 

It was possibly the  _ most  _ absurd that all you wanted to do right now was lay down next to the giant living nightmare and assure him that he was indeed  _ not  _ the giant living nightmare you and all other humans made him out to be. But you were kind of afraid to. 

“How long will you be like this?” you asked. Judging by his energy, this was a very scary question that implied you were terrified. 

“Morning,” he replied, you were surprised the entire cave didn’t shake when he spoke. 

“Will you lay down with me?” you asked, and made to sit down on the mattress, only it looked kind of dirty, so you stopped. “There are probably a lot of rats and bugs in here, huh.” You were surprised to hear that you said it outloud. 

“No,” Dettlaff replied, you jumped, again, and turned around and up to see his face. You couldn’t be sure, but it felt like you could almost sense where he was looking. “Most things do not dwell where I do.” 

You shivered. 

“Can you  _ see _ ?” You asked abruptly. To your surprise, and for a moment your  _ horror,  _ he smiled. His mouth was composed completely of fangs. 

“Yes,” he replied, and very slowly, you imagined so as to not startle you, stepped over in one stride, to the other side of the cave, and lowered himself onto the mattress. 

You didn’t know what you had been expecting, maybe that he would magically lose a few limbs after he sat, or something, but it seemed almost impossible to sit next to him. He was pointy,  _ everywhere _ . He was just...he was a  _ lot _ .

“You’re kind of huge,” you stated. He nodded, and his smile did not show all of his teeth, this time, as he kept his mouth shut. 

“I am terrifying,” he replied, his smile gone. 

“Can I sleep in your wing?”

Immediately his chest was rising and falling. He...  _ shifted _ uncomfortably, but his energy went absolutely  _ soaring.  _ Instead of spreading a wing, though, he quickly wrapped himself up with them. 

“Is that a no?” You asked. 

“No,” he assured you, “it’s a yes, Maina.” He was taking  _ giant  _ breaths if the movement of his chest was any indication. He unfurrowed the wing closest to you and as he did so, you were fairly certain you caught a glimpse of something  _ massive _ and  _ erect  _ under the other. 

You hesitated, and you were positive he noticed his slip up. His energy turned to chaos again as he tried to figure out what to do. “No, I  _ wouldn’t _ , Maina.” 

His voice filled every minute space in the area, it was all encompassing and it was growing louder in his panic. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, before opening them.

“ _ Shhhh,”  _ you cooed. You bent over and slowly crawled over to his large, monstrous body. You looked down at the wing you were on, wondering if it hurt at all to have you moving on it, but he seemed to be indifferent to it completely. His eyeless face was observing you, and his body was starting to shake. “It’s okay,” you assured him, “I just...I was startled, that’s all.” 

To be honest you were a little worried that maybe Dettlaff  _ wouldn’t  _ be like himself in this form. But that didn’t seem right at all, and Regis had said that they are the same when they are like this. You could trust him, despite the fact that everything about his appearance, everything about his physical form was telling you that you were in immediate danger and needed to run. 

But you promised yourself that you weren’t going to make him feel like a monster for simply having been born. For existing. You  _ loved  _ him. And since this apparently was bothering him enough to drive a wedge between you...you sighed. His energy was very similar to how it always felt, only more skittish. But now that you were close to him, it started to feel a little less so. It kind of felt easier to read. You decided you were going to try to focus on that...that that might help you get over the, er, rest of it. 

You turned over a bit and sat down on your butt on the fleshy tarp of his wing. He adjusted it so that it covered you a bit, and you were surprised at just how  _ much  _ of it there was to move around. It really was like a blanket. 

A curious blanket.

“I’ve dreamt of your wings before,” you stated, not thinking. 

“ _ What _ ?” He asked, his heart audibly pounding.

“I’ve dreamt about sleeping in them before,” you replied, “before we properly met, I think. After you stopped me from tripping in Beauclair outside of the Herb Shoppe. I was having all of these very vivid dreams, then. For some reason I just  _ knew  _ they were tied to you, somehow.” 

His heart pounded faster. 

“They were pretty comfortable in the dream.” You wrapped it around you, and as you adjusted yourself in the fleshy warmth of his wing, you felt his energy morph into something you’d never felt before. 

You looked up at him and saw his eyeless face staring down at you, barely able to make an expression, but you felt this...this overwhelming sense of happiness emanating from him. His body was shaking...nearly vibrating. 

“It’s pretty warm,” you observed. 

“May I?” he rumbled from deep within as he lifted his arm opposite you in your direction. 

“Of course, Dettlaff.”

He paused momentarily before putting his huge, wicked arm across you. Your body wanted to freeze, so you kept focusing on his energy, which just spiked and heated. 

“Maina,” he said again, as if he were testing your name out in his forgotten mouth. “Will you say my name, please.” 

You looked up at him and smiled. “Dettlaff.” 

An incredible feeling of  _ ease  _ pulsated through you, from him. The fear from earlier was gone, and all that was left in its wake was relief and gratitude and... _ appreciation.  _

_ That  _ was it. You felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude from him. Of love. Eyes closed and wrapped up in your heated blanket, you felt his love for you flow around you, and you fell asleep in the arms of your monster. Of your Dettlaff. 

-

When you woke Dettlaff and you were back in your room in the graveyard. You looked over to him and saw him look up at you from where he lay watching, and you both smiled at each other, before you drifted back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW talk of miscarrying, possible monster dick sighting but is not described, much :O)


	14. Sweet Disposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maina and Regis start their week alone together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW talk of death, addiction, pregnancy, some minor swearing.

You were looking down at the small group of chickens running around in the oldest portion of the graveyard. For a moment, you let yourself notice how utterly ridiculous this was. A coop. A chicken coup. A chicken coop right between a long dead Earl named Josue and a woman who apparently lived a long life as a skilled taxidermist, or at least that’s what her epitaph indicated. For a short stint in Redania you had lived on a chicken ranch, and during that period couldn’t stand them at _all_ , but that being said, there _were_ over one hundred and fifty of them at that ranch. You stared at the four little bodies pecking at the ground and realized happily that you liked chickens a lot more when there were one hundred and forty-six less of them. You bent over and started searching for eggs. You know, around _headstones_ and such. The chickens were absolutely resilient to the coop Geralt had made them. Which was nice of him, but now you wondered if he’d doused it with some chicken repellent afterwards. You couldn’t be sure.

Regis had explained to you in detail what you should and should not do while pregnant. After what had happened last week, the three of you were absolutely fine making sure you followed those directions. Well, the _four_ of you including Geralt, who had dropped the pretense that he was only coming by to deliver your mail and admitted he just wanted to see you more often. You could tell that he missed dragging you along on witcher contracts, and you assured him that you would be more robust after the pregnancy. He never looked convinced when you told him this, but you still did. 

After finding five eggs you gave up and headed back to the crow building. Bending over for long periods of time wasn’t on the extensive list of things you couldn’t do while pregnant, but you certainly didn’t enjoy sifting through chicken shit in a graveyard. When you got to the kitchen Regis was brewing you another Fia Filik Fite, which was the new name Dettlaff had given your medicine. Apparently, it was a more tasteful and endearing name than Marish me Sel, but when asked what it meant in English he just blushed deeply and changed the subject. You were also certain you had heard Regis refer to you as ‘Foato’ a few times and you had no idea what that was about or why it had to sound so much like ‘potato’...or why everything in vampiric seemed to start with an “F” these days. 

You put the basket of eggs on the counter and before you could start washing them Regis placed the Fia Filik Fite in front of you. 

“I thought I remembered you saying that I would only have to take this biweekly,” you said, looking down at the glass and its murky contents. You picked it up and downed it, before shivering. 

“That was before,” Regis said, picking up the eggs and getting started on washing them off. You went to grab one but he slapped your hand away without looking at you. “They’re dirty.” 

“But not dirty enough for me to go fetch them, huh?” You pushed, snarkily, he gave you side eye and a slight smile in reply. 

“You were supposed to use your skirt to pick them up, Maina.” He said, cracking the first egg into an empty mixing bowl. You absolutely growled at _that_ remark. “My my, Dettlaff truly _is_ rubbing off on you.”

“You _know_ I hate these damn skirts,” you said, slapping your hands about your thighs to make the fabric _swish._ Regis started to laugh. In truth, though, your belly had grown _rapidly_ after the... after you lost one of them, and the other seemed to take on the growth of two. To your dismay, this was all that fit you, now.

Geralt _loved_ it. _You_ were certain that it was only because he wanted to give you shit about wearing skirts and being feminine, and _Dettlaff_ was convinced that he’d have to kill Geralt if he mentioned how “dainty and beautiful” you looked in a skirt again. 

You missed both of them, actually. Dettlaff had to go get more ingredients since you were progressing faster, and thus taking more medicine, and Geralt informed you yesterday that he was leaving for a week and wouldn’t be able to come by. You had a suspicion that Dettlaff may or may not have planned his leaving with Geralt’s absence. 

Not that Dettlaff was brutish, perse, but you could certainly tell he didn’t trust Geralt. He mentioned something about how Geralt smelt different when you were around versus when you weren’t, and you promptly told him to not go into any details on what _that_ could mean. Actually, you told him to never tell you anything about Geralt’s _smell_ again.

You also had a suspicion that Dettlaff chose to go gather more ingredients because he couldn’t keep his hands off of you despite being informed that you couldn’t fuck like rabbits in your _fragile_ (sigh) state. He’d been driving himself insane with it, truth be told. It was incredibly endearing, and almost scary sometimes, but mostly incredibly endearing. It was a funny thing, how seeing his scarier side reminded you that you would be well protected, instead of that you were in danger.

“ _So_ , what are we smiling about?” Regis asked, interrupting your thoughts which were apparently written across your face. 

“Just thinking,” you turned and leaned back on the breakfast nook table near the one window of the small, primitive kitchen. Looking at him, now, you realized how much _healthier_ he looked today than he did a week ago, and your smile just widened further. “How are you feeling, Regis?”

The balding vampire paused for a moment, adding chives to the mixture before throwing it all in the hot cast iron. You could see his cheeks move in the slightest smile on the side of his face. “I’m feeling better all the time, Maina. Thank you for asking.” 

The two of you ate your breakfast in relative silence. After Regis had put away the dishes you decided to break it. 

“Could we go to Beauclair today? You and I? We could visit a bookstore and eat pastries!” you offered, trying to enthuse him as much as possible, but he appeared unmoving. 

“Maina,” he said, putting his weight back against the counter and crossing his arms, “you know you shouldn’t ride Mers, or _any_ horse, right now. To be safe.” 

You frowned. You were getting so sick of being _cooped_ up more than the damn chickens outside. A thought occurred to you. 

“What if you turned me into smoke? Dettlaff said it’s natural for the baby.” You smiled, widely, and completely mischievously. 

Regis pinched his chin, his eyes moving about the floor. After a few short moments of this one brow followed the other to his hairline and he sighed. “I probably shouldn’t.” 

“ _What?!_ ” you pouted, “ _why?_ ”

He pinched his lips together as he considered you, then sighed again. “First, we don’t even know if I _can._ ” He eyed you significantly. “Second, I don’t think Dettlaff would appreciate me trying and failing. ...Or trying and being _successful,_ for that matter.” 

“What?” you pouted further, and then, not being able to help it, repeated yourself completely, “ _why?!”_

Regis shrugged. _Damn it vampires are complicated._

“So we’re not going because Dettlaff is over protective?” you asked, and Regis nearly rolled his eyes. 

“In short, I’d say it’s more that he’s _territorial_.” He offered you his hand, “If you're willing to accept a terribly reductive explanation."

You stood up and, looking down at yourself, noticed that your feet were becoming more difficult to see beyond the round of your belly. You were progressing _really_ quickly. Regis thought it was probably not humanoid, now, because of this. Dettlaff’s excitement did not waver at the news, and this surprised you, since the humanoid ones were the ‘ _ones that will extend your life expectancy the most’_ as he put it.

It was starting to make you feel like Dettlaff was actually experiencing giddiness over _becoming a father -_ a realization that came with a an entire new set of feelings you didn't know you were capable of experiencing for another.

“So,” you started, “what are we going to do, then?” You were desperately hoping Regis was going to make time out of his busy schedule, which you imagined consisted of trying to read and rewrite every book and account in recent and ancient history, to spend time with you. 

“Well, we can walk to the Sansretour and I can teach you how to fish.” You looked at him, confused, “My apologies. I meant to say we can walk to the Sansretour and I can teach you how to fish _better_.”

“Regis!” you laughed, “That was _one_ time.” 

Actually, it was _two_ times. Twice you, Geralt, and Regis had gone fishing and twice you had managed to lose a lure and _twice_ you had managed to ruin the line. You were probably just distracted by the fact that Regis was fishing using a rod and lure and other human things instead of just... _catching the fish with his hands._

“So?” he asked. “I’d like to have some form of Meuniere tonight, and it will give you something to _do._ ”

You nodded. It would have to do. Besides, you were just happy you were going to get to spend time with someone other than Mers today. You felt guilty even thinking _that_. 

-

The water of the Sansretour was crystal clear before further away it became turquoise, aquamarine, and you were fairly certain some parts in the distance could do with being called lavender. You took in the sight as the breeze rustled through your hair. You sighed, and touched the roundness you grew in the past week. 

Regis was putting together your fishing setup since you were completely out of your element with it. You’d asked if the two of you could use the row boat that was always visibly on the shore not seventy feet downriver from the path you took each time, but he shook his head and told you he wouldn’t feel comfortable being so far away if anything were to happen. 

You resolved to sit on a rock. _I hate skirts,_ you thought, as they bunched up inappropriately, itching to make you sit ‘ _like a lady’_ . Your company noticed the annoyance and you saw him smirk slightly. _Hmmph._

Regis sat beside you lazily, and taught you how to better your cast, and did a great job of _not_ laughing at you as you became increasingly frustrated with yourself. He, however, made short work of catching a pan fish and two trout. He tossed them in the bucket he’d brought along and filled with water, before turning his attention to the river, and closing his eyes.

You don’t know why you said it, but you did. 

“I can’t drink alcohol,” you stated, letting your line droop as your bobber bounced lazily in the slow-moving current. On the other side of the river a large boat was slowly making its way north to the Beauclair dock.

Eyes still closed, he cocked his head. “I know,” he replied, “you’re _pregnant._ ”

_Oh...right._

“No,” you clarified, “I can’t drink alcohol _ever_ .” You looked down, _was this a good idea? Were you being obtuse?_ “It, er,...I can’t stop, once I start. It ruined me for awhile.” 

“Hmm,” he sighed. “I’m sure you’ve spoken to Geralt about my blood addiction, then?” 

Your face colored scarlett, “I just wanted you to know that I don’t think less of you because of it.” Geralt _had_ spoken to you about his addiction, though, and because _you_ had told him about his relapse. Guilt was forming in your chest. “But, yes. Geralt told me about it.” 

“I’m sure he told you about my being cut up into little pieces and buried in the ground, too, then?” He asked, arching an eyebrow. Normally, this should be terrifying to hear, since you were speaking to someone who survived being cut up into little pieces and _buried in the ground for fifty or so years_ for, y’know, _killing people_. However, it was Regis, and you knew you were important to him, and the way he’d asked the question was quirky and a bit humorous. So, instead of feeling the hairs rise on your back, you stifled a giggle that was forming in the door to your throat. 

“Yes, he did,” you replied, “how it felt like such a bad hangover you had to quit." You sighed, remembering. "We humans call that _rock bottom.”_

 _Now_ you had Regis’ full attention. He was _staring_ at you, one brow lower than the other, and his expression was impossible to read. This went on long enough that you were starting to feel _really_ foolish about _something_ you must have said. 

“I mean,” you started, “I don’t mean to liken your blood addiction to the silly addictions of humans,” you rubbed your right arm with your left hand, “it’s not li-”

“Geralt told you that I stopped drinking blood because of a _hangover?_ ” he asked, interrupting. 

You felt your face flush again and you looked down, “...a fifty year hangover, yes. It seems so.”

The sound of Regis sigh made you look up again. It was so _resolved._ If it wasn’t taking fifty years to regenerate that made him quit, _what in the world…_

“I killed her.” 

Your thoughts came to a halt as he said it. He was looking off into the distance, but you knew he was more likely somewhere else entirely. You were very aware of your hands, then, and that you didn’t know what to do with them. 

The silence between you grew until you reminded yourself that you could _speak to him._ It was _Regis_. 

“Who?” you asked, and his eyes closed _shut_. 

“Amilie,” his forehead was pinched down, as if he were worried he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes closed without the aid of his brow. Then, he opened them, “My _one_.” His voice became a whisper, “I don’t even remember it.” 

You were frozen. You looked at his body and wanted to put your arms around him, but you couldn't somehow. Finally, you reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry, Regis.” Your voice sounded not like yourself. 

“Thank you, Maina,” he replied. 

You rested in that silence for some odd minutes, before Regis seemed to remember himself and reclaimed his hand, clearing his throat. The two of you started packing up your fishing gear, and as he picked up the bucket with the day’s catch, he offered you a stiff half smile, “You must be quite relieved that Dettlaff doesn’t practice drinking human blood."

It seemed like he was just trying to fill the empty space. A space that was probably very painful for him. 

"He used to call my former friends and I all immature for doing so when we were younger, if you can believe it," he continued.

You could. He offered you his arm and the two of you took to the trail into the woods and towards the graveyard. Towards home, for now. The sun was getting lower in the sky and the light dancing through the trees was enchanting the forest. You tried to soak it all in. Your body felt different when you walked, now. Everything seemed to center itself around your womb...or maybe that was just your attention. You thought about Dettlaff and what Regis just told you.

“He really never used to drink blood?” you asked, half absentmindedly. The forest really was beautiful. Something about it gave you the creeps, actually, but the light filtering through the leaves was too distracting for you to put your finger on it.

“Dettlaff? No, he certainly makes a point to avoid it. I think it might have something to do with his disdain for the entire -- sorry, _prior_ disdain for the entire human race. Didn’t want to be a slave to it, if you’ll excuse my likening it to slavery.” 

Then he stopped walking completely and looked down at you. 

“Did you say ‘never _used_ to’?” he asked with his head slightly pitched. 

“Um,” you wanted to walk again, you didn’t like this stop and go business. You wanted to see more of the forest in this light. You wanted to go frolic around off the trail, not stand on it. Regis must have picked up on this, and he started up again, though he was still looking down at you, his brows furrowing. 

“Maina,” Regis began, “does...does he?”

You nodded, “Yes, he _does._ Why?” 

It could have been your imagination, but Regis breathing had become what you wanted to describe as syncopated. It didn’t sound _right_. 

“Regis?” you asked, again, but the light in the forest was saccharine and you couldn't miss it. For a moment you thought you should run.

“It’s nothing, Maina,” he replied, sounding different. You should run for your life. Or look at the trees. Your chest started to feel tight. Then you heard something babbling in the brush, and your head started to feel _very_ funny. What were they saying? You heard Regis say, “Maina?” 

You felt his large vampiric hands on the sides of your arms. Regis looked around the trees. 

“It’s a water hag,” he looked down at you, “put your hands on your ears.”

You did, but your legs were wobbling. 

“Oh _dear,_ ” You heard him say in a very Regis tone, then you disappeared.

You opened your eyes and you were in the crow building. He must have smoked you out, just then.

“Well, _see_ now was that so har--Regis?” you were both standing upright, and he still had his arms around you. You could feel his heart beating in his chest, it was rapid and thumping. “Regis?”

His face was in your hair. You were starting to worry about what exactly was going on. Was he hurt? Was he...thirsty? You didn’t feel in danger. You put your arms around him to give him a little squeeze of encouragement. It couldn’t have been easy, you bringing up his addiction, reminding him of _her._

Then, he released you, not looking at you. “I apologize, Maina.” 

Before you knew it, you were alone in the hallway.


	15. [NEW ART NSFW UPDATED 4/9]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A while back I promised myself that I'd work on improving my art. Why not start by getting better at drawing this fic's characters? ;) I ALSO promise that someday I'll get my mind out of the gutter and make a nice, clean, non-horny, cute, picture of Dettlaff. 
> 
> But today is not that day.
> 
> I spent most of my time on Regis, so he's looking _quite _a bit more convincing than Dettlaff. No idea why I went that route since this is literally a Dettlaff romance, lmao, but Regis is a good boy, too and deserves a rendering. I’m moving the the Dettlaff piece to the other art chapter after I spruce it up a bit.__
> 
> _  
> _This chapter will be a permanent new art chapter because scrolling through huge pictures annoys me. Cheers, y'all._  
> _


	16. Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These Regis chapters are written a little differently, with more time hops, etc. 
> 
> CW: depictions of loss and depression, descriptions of pregnancy and its symptoms.

You were laying with your shoulders propped up against a headstone in the grass, in the dark, on a hill next to Mers. He looked like a big, four legged shadow with his black coat, and his energy felt like a big dark shadow, too. The horse was angrier than all hell and you couldn’t blame him for that. You really wished there was a way to tell him that you _couldn’t_ take him out to roam even though you wanted to. You had contemplated even asking Regis if he would take him for a ride, but you weren’t positive you’d feel comfortable asking that. Other animals didn’t seem to like Regis or Dettlaff and who knew if vampires even rode horses? It kept you from making the request. That, and it had been two days since you last spoke to Regis. Or rather, two days since he spoke _back_ to you with more than two or three words before leaving you alone, again. There was a time and place when this would have been completely acceptable, normal behavior. Here and now was no such setting. 

He’d taken to avoiding you; you knew that. Probably so that he could avoid any future instances where you make him _think about his long dead lover that he forgets more and more of with every passing hour._ Maybe he was worried that you’d stick your nose into things even further - you couldn’t be certain. You _could_ however, be certain that you were terribly bored. Pregnant, cooped up, getting sick off and on all day, not able to take Mers out or practice getting in touch with your familiar, feeling too awkward to go into the kitchen and cook, missing Dettlaff and his warmth...the list went on. All you could do to rebel was lay out on a grassy patch of earth _fifty_ feet from the crow building a _little_ later than you should probably be up. It wasn’t _Mutiny on the Bounty_ , but it helped...even if just a tad.

But it didn't help what was _actually_ bothering you.

In the spirit of fixing things, you decided that you were going to pay Regis a visit in his study, and not be dissuaded from interrupting his constant reading, writing, gathering, or brewing. With your awkward belly you rolled to your side and lifted yourself; Mers could stay where he was, for now, and probably would enjoy the very slight change of scenery. 

The air was still humid and warm on your skin. You frowned at your sundress as you made your way down to the building. Your breasts were beginning to fill out a _lot...a_ nd they hurt. Any little touch, any minute hop or skip you made, you could feel it. As someone who had a relatively small chest, you weren’t certain if you were entirely comfortable with their current size, either. It made you feel vulnerable, and all of the clothes that _did_ fit you right now left you a tad _exposed_. In fact, since Dettlaff left... actually, since _yesterday, even..._ your belly, your chest, _and_ your face had all gone through considerable resizing. It was as if last night a switch had gone off in your sleep - you woke up and suddenly had the full set of accoutrements. Your cheeks were rounder and if you faced _anywhere_ below eye level you’d have one more chin than you had last week. Peeing was a constant need and sometimes you just wanted to vomit. Things smelt bad that didn't before. You were fuller all around, and self conscious about Dettlaff coming back and seeing how much you’d _progressed_ since he left. What if he didn’t like it? Sighing, you pulled up the top of your dress _again_ and opened the door to the temporary homestead. 

Regis was laying on the two cushion chesterfield sofa, what you considered to be the _only_ comfortable seating arrangement in the study since you started this matronly venture. He looked up at you when you entered and smiled politely. 

You wanted to be friends. Good friends, if possible. _He’s Dettlaff’s blood brother, for chrissakes._ Not that you entirely understood what that meant, but _you_ felt at least, that it would make him a sort of uncle to your brood. He put down the book he was reading before plainly stating, “I’m surprised to see you’re still up.” 

“Yeah,” you smiled slightly, “I guess with all of the off and on napping during the day my circadian rhythm is a bit miffed at me or something.”

He closed his eyes and drew a large breath in through his nose before reopening them and taking a long look at you. 

You realized he was waiting on you to steer the conversation or leave. “Um,” you began, looking at an errant vial on the floor in the corner, trying to figure out what to say. _I really should have planned out something to talk about._ “What are you reading?”

He looked down at the book he was holding, his journal in the other hand, and replied, “I’m afraid I’m still reading up on human husbandry.” 

Your gulp was audible, and he gave you a sympathetic smile. It was the first outward sign of emotion he’d lent you since earlier this week. _Progress._ Also, _maybe a bit creepy with the human husbandry business_.

“Any interesting new discoveries?” you asked, casually. 

“Several, actually,” he replied, skimming the pages, “but I wouldn’t like to bore you with it.” 

A beat.

 _Shit._ You were still just awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. _I_ really, really _should have planned out something to talk about._ You bit your lip slightly, “Can I sit?”

He seemed a bit taken aback, but moved himself to one side of the lounge.

“Is everything okay, Maina?” he asked as you took a seat beside him. It almost looked like he was trying to _escape_ the couch through the armrest, the way he pushed himself to the opposite end. It made you frown, slightly. You really fucked up, huh? You went to look at the book he was reading but he grabbed it from the coffee table before you could reach it. “Sorry,” he offered, “don’t want to lose my spot.” 

_...Ri-ight._ Really _fucked up._

“Regis I just,” you took a deeper breath, “I just wanted to apologize for what happened the other day. I shouldn’t have brought up your addiction or likened it to my own, or assumed that I could help you feel better about it.” 

_Uhoh._ You could feel yourself wanting to skip off the rails a bit, and your recipient didn’t look like he was about to help you avoid that with any helpful anecdotes.

“...I’ve noticed that you haven’t really seemed happy since taking care of the Striga in Fox Hollow and…” _Oh god, had he expected me to not stick around after that? Is it just_ me _overall?_ “...I know that addictions can be isolating and adding that to the fact that there aren’t a lot of higher vampires around...and I don’t know, I’m pregnant so maybe that’s put me in a nurturing mood, but…” you trailed off, now looking at the end of the coffee table.

You took a moment to let yourself take in oxygen. “I just care about you is all, I guess.” 

Regis was quiet for a long time. You hadn’t looked up at him for fear that his facial expression, or the awkwardness of the silence, or his closeness on the couch (a fear which you felt guilty about) was going to cause you to simply walk out. The end of the coffee table was starting to morph in your vision when Regis finally spoke. 

“Well,” he started, sounding almost normal, “I’m terribly sorry to have worried you so much.” He sighed, his eyes scanning the library around him. “How about I make it up to you by teaching you Vampiric?” 

Your brows shot up in surprise. _What?!_ This had not been the reaction you thought you were going to get. The older vampire looked a little more like himself as he smiled. 

“I like to teach, and you,” he looked you over, “are a little indisposed of your regular activities.” 

His eyes were still lingering on you, slightly, and you wished you had put something else on over your dress. Then you remembered that Regis has seen _all_ of you, between examining you at Geralt’s and the miscarriage. You didn't know how that made you feel.

Regis went over to the shelf and picked out two separate books and returned to the coffee table with his own chair, which he propped up adjacent to your side of the sofa. He explained that the first was a text written by a human on the Vampiric language and vampires themselves. He really did enjoy teaching. 

“ _That_ ,” he had said, placing the human-published book the table, “is more for our own amusement.” He smiled and you chuckled, imagining how full of misinformation it _had_ to be, especially if Regis was willing to entertain it _now_. You looked at it, and it read: _Vampires and Vampire Linguistics._

Then, he lifted a book and explained to you that it would be your textbook on the vampiric language, and added sarcastically that unfortunately the author, who is a vampire, didn’t add any funny little theories or mounting microaggressions for definitions in _this_ one. 

It had a title you couldn’t pronounce in letters you couldn’t make out, so you figured you were off to a good start. 

The next day you spent learning Vampiric from Regis, starting in the afternoon and ending in the late evening, seeing as you quickly decided to get yourself into the habit of pushing for him to continue on after he told you to go to bed. 

But it was never _that_ difficult to get Regis to keep teaching. It was also a spectacular way to keep your mind off of how sick and _tired_ this pregnancy was starting to make you. It was getting to the point that you almost nearly _agreed_ with the entire list of not-to-do’s Regis had laid out for you the weeks prior.

You’d taken a moment’s break from learning the past tense of a few simple verbs he’d given you earlier that day to try to look something up in the back of the book... and found it. ‘Foato’, the word Regis once referred to you as in passing to Dettlaff. 

“Pregnant and fruitful…” you’d read the definition aloud under your breath, and scrunched up your face. That felt kind of gross. “Regis, you’ve been referring to me as the _fruitful_ and pregnant for the past two and a half weeks? F _ruitful?_ ”

The vampire cleared his throat. 

“I’d say it was an accurate description,” he stated matter of factly, not looking up from his notes...but the smallest tint of color was blooming on his complexion. 

You went back to conjugating verbs. 

After some time Regis looked over your work, sipping a cordial. You must have done well enough, even though there were what felt like a _million_ different conjugate endings, because he gave you a little smile before setting down your journal and his glass with a _clink_.

He stilled for a moment, looking at his drink, but before he could ask or say anything, you cut in, “It’s fine, Regis. Please.” 

He frowned, slightly. You began working on putting the words into the list of short phrases provided in the text. One stuck out to you.

“I don’t think I understand this word phrase, Regis.” 

You leaned over to show him, “right here, this here…’ _iocip-_ ”

“Ivcipa eno bina cra lial,” he said, reading over your shoulder. 

“He chose understanding, swam to make himself a... loyal pair of sheep?” Hearing yourself say the words together made you burst out laughing. You had _obviously_ mixed something up. Regis looked at you and laughed a little, too. 

“It’s a unique statement,” he admitted in thought. “You _did_ add quite a bit of your own flare to it. That being said, I think it’s an aphorism of some sort, which is interesting.”

“What does it mean?”

He looked at the writing and his brows furrowed, “I think you can skip that one, Maina. Many old vampire sayings are quite indecent.” He went back to his journal. 

“What!?” you threw up your arms, “No, Regis, tell me!” 

He smiled and shook his head. “You’ll be quite alright without it.”  
“It can’t be worse than you calling me _fruitful_ ,” you laughed. For a second you thought he winced. You considered not pushing it.

"... _Please._ ”

“If I give in _now_ , this behavior will only continue,” he scolded, mockingly. 

“You can’t tell me you’re going to teach me a language then _shield_ me from it.” 

“It’s _really_ not that interesting,” he said, his voice was losing some of its playfulness. 

“If it _wasn’t_ interesting, you would have told me by now,” you were still laughing.

“Maina, _please._ ” 

“How many times am I, a human, going to get the chance to live by vampiric aphorisms?”

That made him bark out a laugh and he rolled his eyes. 

“I’ll just look it up, anyway.” 

His smile faded, and he went back to writing. 

“Flow together and suffer your dinner forever,” he said, not looking up. 

“What?” you asked. 

“ _Ivcipa eno bina cra lial_ means _flow together and suffer your dinner forever_ . _”_

You looked at him, then to the book in front of you. 

“I give up,” you said, exasperated and closing the book in front of you, feeling tired. “You vampires even manage to make fucking _aphorisms_ confusing.” 

“We make _everything_ confusing,” he stated still regarding his notes, “ _trust me.”_

  
  


In the bedroom you were having trouble sleeping. Mers was still angry and his energy was annoying to no end. _Remind myself to plant him_ further _tomorrow…_ Unfortunately, you couldn’t box him out unless you actually used your own energy to do so. You were just _stuck_ laying there _,_ feeling it. Since when could you _not_ sleep? That’s all you ever wanted to _do_ during the day. You felt your belly, wishing Dettlaff were here with you. A rush of excitement pulsed through you, and with it, relaxation. You were going to have to look up whether or not the presence of the vampire father helped the baby during pregnancy, because you certainly felt calmer and _less sick_ whenever Dettlaff was around, and when he wasn’t, it helped to think about him.

Rolling around in your bed was only making you more anxious. So you got up, lit the candle in your candelabrum and went to the study. _Might as well take this precious time and settle the father-vampire-pregnancy dispute immediately_ , you thought, half mocking yourself and your current plan of action. 

The study felt damp and cold without Regis’ steady fire going in the hearth. It made you shiver, and you felt acutely aware of the fact that this room, which rested deepest in the ground, was more a _tomb_ than a study. You began your search of the shelves, and it took a total of ten minutes to realize that there wasn’t anything on vampire-human pregnancies in the study at _all_ . You bit your lip, annoyed. At least, not unless you could find that book on human husbandry Regis had been reading yesterday, but you doubted that he’d have left it out after the whole _not wanting to lose his page_ ordeal _._ You were about to turn around and go to bed when you saw _it._

Nestled under his journal and a few loose papers on his desk in the corner, the dark black leather spine with gold print was glistening in the light of your candle. 

You stared at it, and it stared back at you as you reached out and touched it. A flicker of red on the spine gave you a start before realizing that it was just a part of the inlay. Quietly you slid it out from underneath the pile of his notes, and his journal. 

Setting your candlestick on the desk, you held the book under the light and swallowed. Human Husbandry. You stroked the spine, and something in the back of your mind hummed _malafais,_ the vampiric word for mischief, evil-doing. You thought it was odd Regis had tried to stop you from reading it. Had Dettlaff read it? 

Second guessing yourself, you started to lift his notes on the desk to replace the book when you noticed that it had a bookmark in it...no, it was a clustering of pages torn from another, slightly younger book, judging by the lighter color of it. 

_Fuck._ Something told you this was a breach of at _least_ Regis’ trust, but he shouldn’t be keeping information about _who you are and where you came from_ hidden from you like this. _Two wrongs don’t make a right,_ a voice whispered in your head.

 _Oh_ _well_.

You slid out the torn entries and looked down at it. You could see why Regis was protective over his book, if he treated the rest of them anything like he had these pieces of paper. Front to back, the margins were littered with his notes and thoughts. He fit them around the print's formatting in some places where it was cramped. Tiny little scribbles here and there. The print was so fine you had to squint your eyes and lower your face closer to the text. 

He had bracketed a series of paragraphs on one of the pages, the note in the margin caught your attention...it was uncharacteristically short. _Maina,_ it read. Your heart was beating faster. _Why doesn’t Regis share any of this with me?_ You lowered your head to read the portion he had apparently thought applied to you. It seemed to be an account of some sort…

  
  
  
  
  
  


> _Memoirs and Reflections c.t.p. 276_
> 
> ~.~
> 
> _...[of Aster] I had a weird feeling about him as soon as he arrived, caged and shackled, late that winter night in 989. They had told me they were working on a variety that was travel friendly. You simply could grasp them by the body and ‘vaporize’. Well, after hearing this I went to their mill myself and picked one out. So, if he was transportable, then why hadn’t they transported him to me in that state themselves? They told me that they couldn’t move him like so, that it was a ‘risk’. At the time I had thought they were protecting my investment. How could one of the human herd put one of us at risk? But after he stayed with me that first week in his cage, the unsettling feeling in my stomach about him only grew. It was intoxicating..._
> 
> _Then I disassembled him and reassembled him for the first time. It was an incredibly intimate affair, transporting him myself. After that- moving him, feeling his body mix with mine in our state of being liquid and gas particles- I nearly immediately began having alien thoughts about him. It started with me giving him blankets. Then, I began_ _drinking from his body directly_ _. I couldn’t look at him as livestock anymore, merely one week after I brought him with me to the Velam Asal. At first I shirked it off - how absurd to consider actually_ caring _for a member of this crude species, so similar to their ape cousins. Looking back, long after Aster passed, I realized that I had cared for him very much. I wanted to move him more and more, the following weeks, to feel it. To feel being so close to another, to feel us dance around each other freely, without him being able to think or feel or judge me back as we floated and soared, if only for moments. He had brown hair, and brown eyes, and freckles on his face, two dimples implanted in his cheeks when he smiled, and I would go on to make him smile. His blood tasted like candy to me when he laughed. I wanted to bear his children, but I have never been able to reproduce. He was so fragile. He became precious to me - not in the same way as my late Acern Aro Fio, but who could feel the same for a human as one could for a Nosferat? I began wondering if_ I _could. I wanted him, constantly. Despite my efforts to extend his life, if only for mere decades, Aster passed in late 1012, so I wrote to Khagmar’s assistant in Tesham Mutna putting in a request for another. Well aged, 30-55, male, transportable, etc. The first I received, whose name escapes my memory, was an Ofiri whom I could not transport, so I drank him. Cathe promptly delivered another, the second, sixth months after my initial inquiry. He was a stoutly Nordling by the name of Belohum and I could not bear the sight of him, nor could I transport him. I yearned to feel the mix of my flesh and another's._ _The resolve I built after losing Fio had been shattered by this human curse. This false hope in the wake of my Aro._
> 
> _It is like being pulled from a dreamless sleep and pushed into a painful reawakening, for just long enough to remind you what it is to be awake, of what you spent so long working to keep forgotten..._
> 
> _~.~_

You looked down at the page, and again at the note in the margin. _Maina._ Quietly, you pushed the grouping of torn papers back into the book on Human Husbandry and panicked when you realized that you hadn’t kept the page he had bookmarked. _Shit._

That wasn’t important to you, now. Now, you just wanted to get out of the study and back into bed. You felt dirty, and you knew you had stumbled onto something that was way beyond what Regis obviously considered sensitive information. You couldn’t wrap your head around what it all meant for now, but you needed to get out. 

Without a sound you lifted the loose notes and Regis’ journal from the desk and slid the book on Human Husbandry with its mismatched contents underneath them.

When you slumped back into bed, you were nearly too tired to think, and you were glad for that. The only things that kept cycling through your head were the vampiric aphorism and that you really, truly, missed Dettlaff.


	17. Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maina considers some things, meets Orianna and takes a walk with Regis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all I am excited that Dettlaff is returning next chapter. Sheesh. Regis and his saucy pit of despair is sad stuff.

You woke up the next day to find that it was overcast and misty outside in the graveyard. _Dismal,_ you thought, _thanks for rubbing it in, world._ The last crackles in the fireplace made you jump slightly, and when you looked to the source across the room from you, noticed that the view was skewed by the growing bump on your body. Your heart melted a little, then, and you laid your hand on it, massaging it. Your heartbeat slowed to normal.

“It’s okay,” you whispered comfortingly, “ _you’re_ okay.” 

You felt a smile flirt with the set of your mouth, and your chest swelled. A warmth was spreading throughout your body. Dettlaff would be returning by evening, he'd promised, and you couldn't wait to share this with him.

“I love you _very_ much,” you whispered to it, rolling your fingers over a faint line that had begun to appear on it the last few days. Your belly felt tight against its outer layer of skin. How long had it been? _What age are you?_ Regis still couldn’t give you that answer, and told you that it wouldn’t make much of a difference, ‘ _though I would_ _like to have that information for future reference’._

Your hand stopped moving. 

_Regis and his references._ You thought, and frowned. Suddenly you looked over, and found a full glass of _Fia_ on your bedside table. There had never been anything weird about Regis leaving your medicine next to your bed in the early hours of the morning _before,_ but... You shifted uncomfortably, then picked up the glass and downed its contents. _Hmm._

 _‘Flow together and suffer your dinner forever,’_ you remembered his words from last night. You remembered what you found stored away in _that_ _book_ , and shivered. You set the glass back down and stood up. _It’s okay,_ you told your heart as it roused once more. You took several deep breaths, until you felt calm, again. 

Mers’ energy was creeping through the window, and when you looked out to smile at him, not that he ever noticed you doing so, saw that he’d been moved to a small opening just beyond a sparse line of trees outside your window...an opening that hadn’t been there before. _Regis?_ You wondered. Sun was beginning to part the clouds and ripple through the trees, dappling the undergrowth. The simple happiness coming from Mers was filling you up with content, and you couldn’t describe how grateful you were to have him just then. 

“ _Thank you,”_ you whispered to the animal. For a split second you were certain that you’d seen a dark figure crouched beside him, but when you blinked, there was nothing but brush, grass, and the occasional new tree stump. A grin spread on your face, knowing what it had been. 

You basked in the energy for a moment as you removed the nightgown you’d come to prefer, and replaced it with a simple linen shirt and your skirts. Then, it was time. You turned your attention to what was bothering you, and what was bothering you was the vampire surgeon-barber named Regis. You started pacing the length of your room. 

Regis hadn’t been acting the same since Fox Hollow. _No,_ you thought, _he hasn’t been acting the same since they returned from their own journey._ You turned on your heel and began walking back towards your bed again. _And what were they doing? They were looking into why you could be transported. They were looking into why Dettlaff was sensitive to you, and how they could extend your life._ You scratched your chin and realized that your other hand had instinctively gone back to rubbing your belly. _And if you could bear his children._

Then Dettlaff and Regis returned, and Regis relapsed. You tried to remember how Regis was at the start. Carefree, kind, gentle, always ready to impart some form of wisdom. Perhaps that was part of it, he didn’t _know_ about any of this. He hasn’t had any time to adjust. Your ears heated. 

_He hasn’t had any time to adjust to how he feels about you_. 

You shook the thought out of your head, but you remembered the vampire’s words, printed on the loose piece of paper last night, ‘ _I had a weird feeling about him as soon as he arrived.’_

The thing was, you already _knew_ that Regis had had a _weird feeling_ about you from the start. After the day in the abandoned toy shop, you’d realized how painfully _obvious_ it had been that he was trying to get Dettlaff out of some sort of rut by introducing the two of you, and it worked. He was _right_ . Much like he very often was. He’s _Regis._

You eyed the glass on your bedside table as you passed it.

Only… Only maybe he _hadn’t been_ right. Or, maybe he was only _partially_ correct in thinking he knew _what_ he was feeling. He could _feel_ Dettlaff, right? They were blood brothers. Dettlaff was a part of him, now that he’d made a blood sacrifice to regenerate him. So where did that leave how he felt about you? 

_...‘I had a weird feeling about him as soon as he arrived’..._ It was like she was whispering it in your _ear._

_Shut up._

The only thing you could be sure of was that he had had a feeling about you, too. Or else there was no other reason he should ask a partially magic person to help retrieve Geralt from jail to deal with something as _easy for them to deal with as a striga._ And to choose you rather than a fully magic person? _But what if it was just his hunch about your ancestry?_ You thought about that, but _how_ would he have that hunch in the first place? If he didn’t feel something of an indication _to that conclusion_.

Your mouth was getting dry as you turned away from the bathtub in the corner and crossed the room, again. 

He was just lonely. _He_ is _just lonely._ You frowned. 

That vampire woman couldn’t _move_ more than one person. She had had a funny feeling about him. She could transport him. Your frown deepened.

You remembered on the day you went fishing how you’d first asked Regis if he could smoke you out to go to Beauclair. ‘ _I don’t think I should,’_ he’d told you, and you’d come to the conclusion that it was because Dettlaff was overly protective, or cautious. Only what else had he’d said? 

Stopped in the middle of the room, you looked out the window again to see that the sun was reclaiming the sky. 

_‘I’d say it’s more that he’s territorial...if you're willing to accept a terribly reductive explanation.’_

_That_ was it. _Territorial._ The fine print of her words were peeking through to the forefront of your mind, again. You remembered how she had described turning a human into smoke and back. Disassemble and Reassemble. _‘It was an incredibly intimate affair.’_ Was that what it said? Why did you have to find this out last night while you were so tired? _Why did I have to find this out at all?_ She’d said that after moving him, she immediately thought about him differently, you remembered how it sounded like she was in complete denial about being _in love_ with a human. Then it ended. 

_Then it ended and she was miserable._

You sat on your bed, looking down at your hands, and your arms, and your legs, and your feet. Being the bane of someone’s existence didn’t feel very good, you realized. _You’re not the bane of his existence, Maina._ But weren’t you? You had felt bad when you _accidentally_ reminded him of Amilie _once._

But you were reminding him of Amilie all of the time, _weren’t_ _you_? 

The vampire said she wanted to have children with that human, she’d wanted to see him smile and be close to him, and here you sat, _fruitful_. _Weren’t you?_ Being made to smile all the time. _Weren’t you?_ Having your blood drunk all the time. _Weren’t you?_...‘ _His blood was like candy when he laughed’.._. Only not by him. He was just _watching it all happen._

...And he was _so good_ about it. 

You slumped, a little. This was painful. 

Was there a way to find someone for him? You wanted that so badly now, you noticed. For Dettlaff’s blood brother. 

For your friend.

... _It was an incredibly intimate affair..._

He _was_ your friend _._

_...I yearned to feel the mix of my flesh and another’s…_

His eyes _had_ been lingering on you.

... _I wanted him constantly…_

He _had_ accused Geralt of having feelings for you.

_...to feel being so close to another…_

You remember how he’d stiffen under your touch.

How he’d gone pale when you told him Dettlaff drank from you. 

You shook your head, as if doing so would expel the memory of that vampire woman’s account. You shook it, still. You took a deep breath, and looked out the window, again. Mers was enjoying the nook Regis created for him.

Despite all of this, Regis _remained_ your friend. He’d never done anything to make you feel otherwise. Or unsafe. He never acted uncouth, or obscene, or suggestive. He’d felt bad for making _you_ worried.

And this thing was _not_ his fault. 

You rubbed your belly and sighed. The sun still hung low in the air and you felt your stomach rumble at you. You didn’t want to go into the kitchen, yet. Something told you that if you left this room, it would make the rest of it real. It would make his _pain_ real. _Don’t do that, Maina._

Noting how your boots felt funny on your feet, you walked out into the hallway and turned towards the front door. You were just thinking about how you could have one or two of Mers’ carrots for breakfast instead of the usual when you felt it _._

The hairs were rising on the back of your neck as you heard a voice that was unfamiliar to you. It was coming from beyond the door to the study. Quietly, you walked over to it and found that it was slightly ajar, so you pushed on it gently. 

Passed the regular room of the study was an opening to a cave, or a tunnel. Your mouth slacked. The back wall of the study had been an _illusion?_ That certainly explained why it had been so damp and drafty last night, and why Regis always had a fire in it. Was this how he came and went so often without disturbing you? 

The voice spoke again and brought your attention back to the present. Standing at the mouth of the tunnel were two figures, one obviously Regis, the other was a woman _._ A beautiful woman, with hair as red as your own. You liked that. She spoke again, and the hairs on the back of your neck pitched with the sound of it. 

“I haven’t had the time, unfortunately,” she was saying, her pretty green dress sparkled in the dim lighting as she moved around him playfully. “I’m usually not one for _secrets, but,_ ” she stopped, chuckling. Then everything was silent, as if someone turned off your ability to hear for a split second. You realized h er eyes were on you, shining in the shadows like a cat’s. You didn’t know what had happened first: your eyes interlocking, or your blood going cold. You blinked. _Fuck._

This whole 'being found out while spying on the study' seemed like old hat to you at this moment. You had no choice but to open the door and hope that they would believe you hadn’t been lurking. 

The woman, to her credit, waited for the door to creak before announcing your presence. 

“Well he _llo_ ,” she greeted, enthusiastically. Or was it coyly? She walked further in from the tunnel’s edge and into the light. She was _considerably_ good looking, and those looks were considerably accentuated by the cut of her dress, the color and pattern of the beading, and the extent of its silk embroidery. All around, it seemed completely extortionate. And beautiful.

You felt a little ridiculous standing in front of her in your simple linen shirt and skirts, round belly and unkempt hair. You blushed. Regis stiffened and followed her up the stairs from the tunnel opening to the foot of the room, er, _cave_ , that you were already acquainted with. 

She was still smiling and staring at you, her eyes finally looking human now that there was more light on her face. _Did_ she look human? 

“You _must_ be Maina,” she said, there was a richness to her voice that you enjoyed. But did you really enjoy it? You felt funny. She looked to Regis then back to you, looking you up and down. Finally, you found your voice. 

“Yes, I am,” you replied, “It’s a pleasure to meet you…”

“Orianna,” she beamed, and you blushed. You looked down at your feet and you didn’t know why. You snapped your head back up in defiance of yourself and saw that her expression had changed, somehow. It was no longer polite looking. She looked _intrigued._ When she smiled next, it seemed completely genuine. She chuckled into the air, joyfully, as if she'd heard a good joke for the first time, and looked at Regis, “I have to admit that I can see what all the fuss is about.” 

You cocked your head a bit at that, and she _winked_ at you. You heard a nervous giggle and realized it was your own, and blushed deeper. 

Regis walked over and stood in front of you to face her. “If you’refinished entertaining yourself...”

“Oh, _please_ Regis,” she barked lightheartedly, you thought, “I wouldn’t _dare_ toy with _Dettlaff’s_ human _.”_

Over the back of his shoulder, you saw her eye him _significantly_ . He stiffened further, but his posture became utterly _lethal_. For a moment your body remembered that you were a human in a den of vampires, and it shivered. Orianna continued, despite Regis' threat. 

“Besides, I’ve even offered him my Beauclair estate,” she went on, sounding bored, “what with my coming into the ownership of Dun Tyne and all. It’s much nicer being out in the _country_. Less people to pass on the way to orphanage. Less hassle. Wouldn’t you agree, Regis?”

You were certain that there had been something funny in the way she had said “orphanage” just then.

Regis didn’t answer her, but his eyes went wide when she mentioned Dun Tyne. 

“That’s what brings me here in the first place.” She smiled, face turning back to you, “I’m having a bit of a house warming, well, _castle_ warming party. I’d like to extend an invitation to you three _personally_.”

With that, she handed Regis a piece of parchment and flattened her fine silk skirts with her hands. You saw the back of his head nod. She side stepped him slightly and she _winked_ at you again before disappearing through the tunnel.

A part of your neck relaxed that you hadn’t noticed you’d been tensing.

 _So,_ you thought, _that’s Orianna._

Regis cleared his throat and your body tried to freeze for the fact that you were standing alone together. You looked at him as he turned around to you. He looked _livid._ Observing the place where Orianna had just disappeared, he said, “I am _incredibly_ sorry you had to deal with that.” 

You looked at him, and felt a little pang in your chest. He looked so much like a vampire, now. Like what you had always pictured a vampire _would_ look like. You didn’t really know what to say, so you opened your mouth to simply tell him that it was _alright,_ but when you did, words didn’t come out. You hadn’t closed your mouth in time for Regis to not notice. 

He shuffled uncomfortably, and something told you that he _knew._

Averting his eyes to the piece of paper she’d given him, he announced into the air, “the party is the end of this week.” 

You frowned, “so, _tomorrow?”_

He nodded.

You looked down at yourself and the clothes you had on. What the hell could you even _wear_ to this thing if you _wanted_ to go? Did either he or Dettlaff _own_ fine clothing? You weren’t over how insignificant you’d felt standing next to _only_ her just then. What would it be like with several of her friends at her _castle. Speaking_ of her _castle,_ had she really offered Dettlaff the mansion in Beauclair? He _had_ said that the two of you could _stay_ there, but, I mean…

“Regis, how is it that that woman,”

“Vampire,” he amended.

“...gave Dettlaff a mansion in Beauclair and he opted to _live in a fucking graveyard?”_

Regis let out a laugh, then, and his smile lingered on his face. He pursed his lips, a little, and then arched a brow, “That, my dear, is _just_ the way Dettlaff is.” 

You couldn’t explain the peace it gave you to hear Regis refer to you as ‘dear’, again. You smiled at him, gratefully. He looked at you and smiled back, then stepped closer and presented you a small, blueberry breakfast cake.

It was definitely unexpected, but you beamed at it. 

“Blueberry is actually my favorite kind of sweet bread,” you laughed. He nodded...and it seemed like he was telling you he already _knew_ that. That _of course_ he _knew_ that. Then he offered you his arm, like he had the intention of a stroll. You obliged.

-

He hadn’t said anything until you were outside. He hadn’t said anything about the new little pasture he’d made for your horse as the two of you walked by it, and neither did you. You had _wanted_ to, but your voice was doing that funny thing where if you said anything at all, you were certain you were going to burst into tears. You rubbed your belly absentmindedly. 

The sun was beating down in the heat of the noon hour, so you both sat on a bench south of the building that was under the cover of the wood. The wind was rustling the leaves overhead, and you closed your eyes to the swooshing sounds of it. 

You stared at the books on the vampiric language on your lap, and went to put them down on the bench, you had them in your hands when you realized that you didn’t want to put them on the outside of you, because it would make you sit closer to him, but you also didn’t want to put them in between you and him in case that were insulting. Then you realized that you probably looked silly so you just sat them back down on your lap altogether. 

He had a brow arched at you, and you genuinely giggled at your own awkwardness. You wondered how much _he_ could see through _you._

“Regis,” you began, and were surprised that your voice sounded steady. You saw him close his eyes beside you. You wondered if it was because of the sound of you saying his name. Dettlaff loved hearing you say his name. Were they similar? You didn’t really want to think about it. 

You realized that you hadn’t really had anything to say, either. 

“Maina,” he said, and his nostrils flared, and his eyebrows puckered upwards towards their middle, before they settled down to where they normally rested. “I’m sorry.” 

He’d apologized to you before, in the kitchen the day Geralt had dropped off the book from Yen. You looked at your belly... the day _it_ happened. You thought you knew why he was apologizing, then. He apologized after smoking you out from the water hag, and holding you. Which made more sense. In all honesty, you weren’t sure why he did then, and you couldn’t be certain you understood the scope of what he was apologizing for _now._

You may not grasp the scope of it, but you thought you at least understood what he thought he was apologizing for. 

“Me too,” you replied, truthfully.

He cocked his head at that, but instead of remarking on it, simply said, “I enjoy your company.” 

You smiled, and you felt that warm feeling ripple through your body as it relaxed. “I enjoy yours too, Regis.” You went to hug him but froze midway through the gesture, thinking that it might be painful for him. He caught your gaze.

His eyes were as vast as the ocean, and pleading. But he said nothing, he just looked at you for a long time, and you let him. 

“I think it will be alright,” he said, after a while, and when you looked at him he was smiling at you. 

On the way back to the building he stopped the two of you.

“I nearly forgot,” he said, digging in his pockets, “I have something to show you.” 

Out of his pocket he lifted what looked like a small leather wallet. He opened it and looked down at it, his expression changing into something soft. He swallowed, and handed it to you. “One of Dettlaff’s best, if you ask me.” 

You lifted your hand and slowly grasped onto the binding of the object. It was a portrait holder, and in it, a painting of a woman who had chestnut hair and deep set eyes, held in the arms of a surprisingly handsome young Regis. They were laughing together. 

“Is this?” 

He nodded. 

You looked down at it. They looked so happy together. You felt a lump in your throat. This was a precious thing. You blinked quickly, trying to calm the moisture that was forming in your eyes. 

Then something tightened in your chest. 

“Dettlaff painted this?” you asked. 

“Yes,” he replied. Your ears were feeling funny. You felt your belly protectively.

“When?” you looked up at him, he was standing so close, staring down at you.

“One hundred and fifty-six years ago,” his eyes were bloodshot and unblinking. 

Then you started to cry. You started to _really, really cry._ You let your head hang, and felt yourself being pulled into an embrace, which made you cry more. He squeezed you. 

“We will make sure you get more time with him, Maina,” he said into your hair. “I _promise_ you, you will get more time with him.”

You hoped he was right.


	18. Sweet Cakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maina is not looking forward to Orianna's; Regis begins making her a gown. 
> 
> Dettlaff returns to the graveyard and they continue to fall deeply in love with each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff for EVERYONE! 
> 
> The next chapter is going to be a loong one and a lot happens in it. Maina will be going to Orianna’s, seeing Yennefer and finding out what her ‘favor’ is...which I want to spoil THIS INSTANT, experiencing what it’s like to go to a social outing with a large, territorial vampire she’s pregnant with, and seeing Geralt again! 
> 
> CW: sex described in detail.

The third time you dropped the measuring tape, Regis picked it up from the grass and started measuring you himself. 

“I’m sorry,” you blushed, face heating. 

“It’s fine. Stand on the stump, please,” he waited for you to do so before pulling the tape across your middle from the back, then added, “You should _breathe,_ Maina.” 

_Right._ It was kind of him to offer fashioning you something for this get together tomorrow, and despite how awkward this felt right _now,_ you thought the best way to get over it was exposure. The two of you were outside in Mers’ new grazing area, and had a few lanterns lit. Obviously inside would have been a fine place to do this, too, but you were sick of being in that building. Actually, _both_ of you were sick of being in that building, and it was beautiful out this evening.

“Are you _sure_ you won’t make more small cakes tonight?” You would have felt bad for asking if you didn’t want them so _god damn badly_ right now. 

“I’m sure Dettlaff will be able to make them for you... _and_ acquire the salted salmon you evidently _need,_ ” he offered, “he _can_ cook, you know.”

You knew, you just wanted those cakes sooner rather than later. You frowned.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to do this?” you asked. 

“I should hope so,” he replied, “I’ve been sewing clothes together for the past two hundred some odd years.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” you mumbled, fidgeting with your blouse. 

“Then whatever do you mean?” he asked, distracted. 

You actually didn’t really want to explain it, but you were tired and you didn’t care anymore about _what_ you told Regis. You felt like the relationship had automatically _changed_ today and it didn’t really matter _what_ you said to him. Hell, if you sounded like a prat maybe that’d _help_ his situation. 

“I _mean_ ,” you sighed, looking down at yourself, “do you think it’s realistic that you’ll be able to make something that I won’t feel like a big, dopey, pudgy, _animal bladder_ in?” 

“Maina,” Regis tisked at you, “don’t be absurd.” 

You wanted to cry, though. That’s how you felt right now. You were so insecure about _everything_ and you didn’t care if people knew. Well, you didn’t care if Regis knew. You probably wouldn’t are if Geralt knew, either. 

You really had to work on your friend list. 

Regis turned you around and put his hands on your arms. _Great_. “There is a reason why Dettlaff is annoyed with Geralt talking about you wearing sundresses, and there is a reason why Geralt keeps bringing it up.” 

He spun you back around and measured your bust. You stiffened. 

“You can take that into consideration _now_ if you’d like, because I’m going to want to have an idea of how you’d like it to be _cut_ before you retire for the night.” 

You frowned. “Can’t I just leave it up to your artistic freedom?”

Regis cleared his throat and measured the length of your arms. _What, is he going to put_ sleeves _on it?_ Maybe he was making this measuring thing last. In all honesty, you’d be okay with it if he was. 

“If you leave the cut up to me,” he replied, “I’d have to settle for designing you a fashionable potato sack, to be on the _safe_ side.” 

A chortle escaped you, “That might not actually be a bad idea.” 

The sound of the front door opening and closing drew in both of your attention. Dettlaff was walking out into the night towards the two of you. Before you could make a move Regis grabbed you at your waist, “just hold _still_ for a few more seconds.” 

Dettlaff had a very full, very heavy looking leather bag hanging over his right shoulder, and wondered how much of every ingredient he actually gathered. When he left, he had made it sound like he intended to never go herb, bark, etc. hunting during a pregnancy again, and looking at the size of what he came back with, you think he may have actually been serious. 

You went to go to him now, but Regis cut in “Maina, _one more measurement._ ”

“Regis!”

“Oh _do_ be quiet,” he told you. 

“Dettlaff!” you yelled, and he jogged the rest of the way to the pasture, smiling.

He stepped into the lantern lit area of grass and trees, and when he looked at you he froze. The large leather bag slid off of his shoulder and hit the ground with a _thud_. 

“ _There._ ” Regis said, finished, “You’re free to go.” 

But you were still looking at Dettlaff, who was still looking at you, up and down. You felt your face flush.

In all honesty, it looked like he wanted to _eat_ you. He disappeared.

Then he was picking you up from the stump, laughing.

You blushed further, and saw Regis give you an ‘I told you so’ nod before picking up Dettlaff’s leather bag and walking back to the building with his measuring tape and notepad. 

Dettlaff placed you down on the earth. 

“How do you feel?” he asked. 

“Better, now,” you replied, truthfully. 

His expression changed to one of worry in an instant. 

“Did something happen?” His nostrils flared. 

“No, not really,” you smiled looking up at him, “I just miss you when you’re gone.”

You placed your hand on the side of his beautiful face, and he closed his eyes, seeming completely content. You twirled his dark hair in your fingers, and smiled. You really did feel better now that he was here. You just wanted to kiss him all over, and have him hold you, and cradle his large head in your arms while he spoke to you about the things he enjoyed.

“I think the baby misses you when you’re gone, too.” You had a feeling he’d like hearing that, and you were right. His eyes opened wider, his pupils huge in the night and from excitement. HIs chest expanding.

“Really?” he whispered. You smiled at his expression. He _was_ excited about becoming a father, _good_ god you could tell by just _looking_ at him. 

You nodded your head ‘yes’ and his eyes darted between your belly and your face, before he cupped it and kissed you. He hummed. Energy was coming off of him in waves and it was almost making you _dizzy._ No, it _was_ making you dizzy, and you grabbed his sides to keep yourself upright. He wasn’t a very easy target for grabbing, given his size. He steadied you as you stumbled, then the two of you walked back to the crow building. You could tell that he wanted to lift you up in his arms, and it seemed like he was making it up to himself by having a hand around your waist, and another stroking your newly plump face.

“Dettlaff,” you shuffled your feet a little in the hall as he closed the door, “can we stay in the other room tonight?” 

He looked at you and cocked his head, then it seemed like he understood you. 

“Of course,” he replied, and walked into your bedroom. When he came out he had the mattress over his head. Then he went and got the metal tub. You must have made a funny face, because he, looking hopeful, said, “just in case.” 

You sat down on the bed and felt a bit exhausted. It was only shortly after sundown, but you could feel your energy draining from you, and your feet hurt. And you wanted small cakes. And you really did want that salted salmon. You silently cursed Regis for reminding you of it. 

Dettlaff returned after going to ask the older vampire something he said was important, then he stood in the middle of the room, taking off his clothes. _God, he’s beautiful._ Your body started to feel tingly. You giggled. 

He looked at you, one foot in the air removing a pant leg, and smiled back. Then he surprised you by putting on long underwear. Long underwear that was deep red in color, and which you’d never seen on him before, and was hugging the curves of his muscles and stretching at his chest and shoulders…

You blushed and looked down at yourself again, feeling overwhelmingly unsexy. You think your growth happened too quickly, maybe, for you to get used to...or maybe this was just a normal thing to feel no matter how slowly or quickly you began to show. 

Dettlaff had crawled into bed next to you and when you looked up noticed that he was observing you closely. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked, you reflexively looked down at yourself and blushed. He cupped your face and made you look at him, “Maina,” his nostrils flared and one of his canines began peeking through the space between his lips, “you are so beautiful to me now, I…” he swallowed, looking at you, “I can’t put it into words.” 

He was breathing deeply and his eyes were dancing.

“May I?” he asked, looking down at your belly. You weren’t exactly certain what he was asking permission to do, but you were excited for him to experience whatever it was he was looking to experience. 

“Of _course_ , Dettlaff,” you answered, curious.

He moved himself down on the bed and put his head to your baby bump. You closed your eyes and felt your body relax. This felt really, really nice. It felt like you just took one of those potions Geralt would make for you when he was sick of you spending a week in bed when you first got to Toussaint. Like that but much, much better. Inexplicably, infinitely, _better._ You felt his large hands wrap under your middle as he got better situated. 

“Can you feel it?” Dettlaff asked. 

“Hmm?” 

He swallowed, again. 

“Our baby,” his voice was throaty and rough when he said it, and it made your breath hitch in the best way. 

You didn’t think you could sense its energy, but maybe you hadn’t been trying well enough. You weren’t technically allowed to try, even. Using your powers was dangerous for it, now. Still…

“I can,” he said. You opened your eyes and went to perch yourself up on your elbows. 

“What?”

“It feels like you, mostly,” he said, in a daze. His eyes were closed. You heard him hum deeply, and you felt the vibration on your belly. It tickled, and you stifled a giggle. 

One of his wolfish eyes popped open and squinted at you, devilishly. He hummed again and it tickled you up and down the sides of your stomach, you laid back, laughing, pleading for him to stop. He did, and kissed where his head had been resting, before leaning over you. 

“Regis told me that you’ve been wanting small cakes,” he arched a brow and his nostrils flared as if this were exciting news, “and fish?”

You chuckled at his expression, having no idea what in the world kind of point he was going to make or why he was asking. You nodded, eyes partially closed from giggling, and cupping your mouth. 

“Because you’re pregnant?” he asked, as if mounting the evidence together. You nodded again. He smiled. 

“I’ll make them, now,” he said and hopped out of bed. “Why was Regis measuring you?” 

Your temperature rose a little at the question. Then you remembered the answer and moaned, rolling over as much as you could without being uncomfortable. This belly was really messing with your lounge game. 

“ _May_ -nah,” Dettlaff said in that deep, sing-songy voice again. You realized that you took delight in these behaviors of his...the kind that you only witnessed him do around you. The kind that suggested that he was actually _good_ at picking up subtle social cues, and sarcasm, and hesitancy, and etc. Had he ever had this before? Was his being sensitive to you allowing him to learn to walk for the first time, in a social sense? 

He started to make that show of pride that he’d gotten into the habit of making, when he saw that you’d just been admiring him from across the room. You saw his Adam's apple dip as he swallowed. _Oh_. You laughed, realizing you both had gotten lost in each other, forgetting that you’d even been having a conversation. He smiled and searched your expression, not having been brought back down to earth yet. 

“Regis is going to make a gown for me for tomorrow,” Dettlaff cocked his head, then his jaw sank back into his beautifully wide neck, and he _clicked_ his tongue in his mouth. “Orianna.” 

You nodded, looking exasperated. He nodded, looking exasperated. You both obviously did not want to go. He squinted his eyes at you, and you squinted your eyes back. Now you were both fighting a grin for no reason other than enjoying the change of emotions together.

“Do we have to go?” you asked, then remembered, “Did she actually give you that house?”

He blushed. “I do not like it.” 

Your mouth fell open and smacked the floor. 

“Dettlaff!” you started to laugh uncontrollably, “what do you _mean_ you _don’t like it?_ Honey, we live in a _graveyard._ ”

His eyes got excited and he started walking back over to you, very large, and looking _very_ good in that long underwear, “what did you just call me?” 

You giggled, “I called you a big ole _bat._ ”

“ _Oh?”_ He said, and he leaned over and _bit_ you and it felt _good_. 

It was barely sexual. Okay, it was a _little_ sexual. He _was_ sucking on your neck, after all. But it also felt good in the same way his head on your belly had felt good. It felt like the two of you were connected, in some way. It felt like the two of you were _supposed_ to be doing this together. Like you were _made_ to do this together. You stroked his head. Thinking about how you should remind him to ask first…

...only, in all honesty, you didn’t really want him to start doing that. It seemed like he only did it when he sensed you would like it, and you liked it every time he did it. You felt him retract his fangs and kiss you on the neck where he had bitten. 

“So can we go to your new house or not?” you asked. 

He frowned, “We can stay there, sometimes.” 

You looked at him, puzzled. 

“Where would _you_ like to live most?” you asked, curious. Your heart was fluttering. You realized that you wanted to know. You wanted to know what made him tick. What made him happy. You wanted him to be happy and it was dancing on a line between wanting and needing.

He looked down, and beyond his mass of black hair you were pretty certain that his cheeks were flushed. You almost tried to do his sing-songy name thing, but didn’t want to embarrass him. He sighed and rolled over, “wouldn’t you rather have me make your desserts?” 

You smiled and brushed your hand against the edges of his cheekbone. He was so beautiful, and so wise, and so naive, and so _new_ , so _fluid_ \- all at the same time. He’d closed his eyes. Did he look sleepy? Vampires weren’t supposed to need much sleep. There were so many things you still had to learn from him, about him. “You can tell me, Dettlaff. I want you to know that. Wherever it is that makes you happy is a _good_ place, if it makes you feel comfortable.” 

“You won’t like it,” he told you blankly. 

You felt yourself starting to smile, you were pretty certain you had a decent idea of where this mystery home was going to be. 

“Dettlaff,” you started, “is there any way for me to get up there?” 

He didn’t look at you. 

_Oh my god...he wants to live in that fucking_ cave. 

You didn’t want to laugh in his face, but you did. You weren’t laughing _at_ him. Okay you were, but not really. Not maliciously. 

You were laughing because it was such an incredibly Dettlaff thing to want, you felt. 

“I’m not asking to _live_ there,” he said, not laughing at all. He wasn’t smiling, either. He actually looked very sad. “I only would like to sleep there, sometimes.” 

He still wasn’t looking at you. It almost seemed like he was getting angry with himself.

“Hey,” you touched his arm, “I _liked_ staying there with you.” 

He looked you from the side of his eye, then away. He was still very tense.

“Oh, Dettlaff,” you went and hugged him. “I _mean_ it. I’m sorry I laughed, it was just…” you shrugged, realizing that you didn’t want to say ‘cute’. It felt belittling. This was how he felt comfortable. He was looking at you, now. “Is there something else?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I liked staying there the other night with you, too.” 

You nodded, smiling. 

“I want to,” his voice was deep and raspy, “I’d _like_ to experience this,” he touched you on the round of your belly, and went to say the rest of what he had to say, but grimaced, shutting his eyes instead, “before it will scare them. Before they’re born.” 

You rubbed his back while you tried to figure out what he was saying on your own. Then it clicked. He wanted to be around the baby in his other forms. 

“ _Dettlaff,_ ” you started, surprised by him, “I can’t bel-”  
“It’s fine” he cut in defensively, his voice sounding different, “...I should not have asked.” 

He wasn’t feeling well, and you couldn’t blame him. _Be_ _encouraging_. You took his head in your hands and kissed him on the face. Then still holding it, looked him in the eyes. 

“Dettlaff, of _course_ we can do that,” you were kind of getting emotional about his thinking you wouldn’t allow it, “I _want_ you to have that.” 

His lower lip rolled over his top a little, and finally was holding your gaze. He kissed you then, slowly at first, then more passionately. Then _much_ more passionately. You put a hand on his chest and felt him rumble, but it was quieter than the noise he normally would have made. His breath was on the side of your face. 

“He says we can,” he spoke quietly, “if I am _gentle_.” 

The hand you used to steady him now grasped the red cloth he was wearing, wanting to pull him in closer. His mouth went to your neck, and he was kissing you again...the soft touch of his lips pillowy and inviting. His other hand slid up your leg to the tender place between them and he started drawing small, circular motions on it. You felt yourself tremble, and you again heard his soft, low rumble. You wanted to kiss him back, and went to bring his face in near, but he stopped you from doing so by taking your head and neck by his other hand. 

They were so _large_ , you remembered thinking. 

He stared at you, drinking you in as his other large hand started to excite you. Your insides were starting to react more and more, and you let out a moan. Still maintaining eye contact, his lip twitched, and you pushed your hands through his long dark hair. _Fuck_ . He rumbled again, and you wanted him. But then he slid down between your legs and pushed up your nightgown. Your breathing quickened as you felt him making contact, _sucking_ on you. You could feel him pull your lips taut with his mouth, as his tongue explored. He pulled his head back, then, just slightly, his mouth still around you sucking, igniting your insides, and as his eyes met yours he released it with a _pop._ With a crooked smile, he went in for more. Laying back, you coiled and felt your body take it in waves. 

His low humming began again, and it felt incredible up against you, his hands went and grabbed you by yours, holding you in place. His tongue enveloped your folds and ran along your opening. He whispered your name and breathed on you. You nearly flinched when he lightly squeezed you between his lips. Your back wanted to curl up, and your legs began to shake. Vibration from another low rumble took the feeling and intensified it, and you started to orgasm, and felt it ripple from that tender spot throughout your body. He stayed down there, becoming more gentle as you began to relax. You realized that you were pulling his hair, and that your other hand felt sore from grabbing his wrist. 

You pulled him up next to you, his eyes looking wild, but you pushed him back gently and laid on the length of the bed, on your back, so that your head hung off it just slightly. He stood back and cocked his head at you, his hard cock large and daunting. For a moment you wondered if this was going to hurt, but reached out over your head with your hands and pulled him in close by his groin, and started sucking on the head of his dick...before you pulled him in the rest of the way. You closed your eyes and felt his hands grab your tits.

“ _Maina,_ ” he moaned, excited and surprised. He pushed his dick further down your throat until you gagged a little. He started to back away because of it, but you reached out again and pulled him in further. You felt him shake and he let out a deep, sensual noise, and he started bucking against you. He started fucking your face. His length and girth were almost too much for you to take, and your throat started to get sore, but he was wild with excitement and the way he was rubbing your nipples and playing with your tits was getting you fucking _hot_ again. Just when it was becoming more than you thought you could handle, his hip twitched, and he rumbled. Warm liquid filled your mouth and drizzled down your face. You felt a hand hold the back of your head and he thumbed the semen off your cheek. You swallowed it.

He pulled you up off the bed and you realized that his dick was still erect. He kissed you, shoving his tongue in your mouth, and you were surprised that he did, surprised that he didn’t give a shit about having just came in it. His hand grasped your jaw firmly, but it didn’t hurt. 

“I’m going to _fuck_ you, now,” he growled, low and deep, into your ear. Still suspended in the air, you felt the head of his cock part your lips as he slowly filled the inside of you with him. He let out a low, guttural sound and you chirped because of it, grasping his beautiful head and neck. Your legs were starting to shake. He thumbed your jaw and you looked up at him, and saw that he was looking down at you intensely, a smile flirting with the set of his lips as he drove his dick further into you, his smile faded, and he growled. 

Then Dettlaff pulled out and laid you down on the bed, so that you were on your side. “Is this alright?” he asked as he joined you on the mattress, hand on your hip, mouth on your earlobe. You shuddered. 

“Yes,” you grabbed his shaft, and he cooed. 

“Good,” he whispered, and thrust himself into your pussy again. He _moaned_ audibly and the sound was sweet to your ear. You reached back and grabbed his head by the hair, and started kissing his neck. 

“I want _more_ ,” you squealed, “fuck me _harder_ ,” you pleaded. 

“You will _get_ ,” his hands grasped you _hard_ and you felt his cock pulse as he pushed his hips forward, deeper, causing you to cry out. He was so _big_ right now that it nearly hurt, “what I _give_ you.”

“Dettlaff,” you whimpered, your voice hitching halfway through his name and turning into a moan. 

His reaction to that was immediate, and he started to fuck you harder. You could tell he was restraining...he was putting every bit of effort into not going wild. He started thumbing your clitoris and his open mouth made the side of your neck wet.

“Dett _laff_ ,” you moaned again, wanting to feel him lose control. He slapped your clit and you nearly screamed, his arm wrapped under your neck and he had you by your jaw again. 

“Say it again,” he demanded in your ear. His pace slow, steady, and _forceful._ You rolled your hips to feel Dettlaff’s hard fucking _cock_ hit the best spot and you were close to cumming again. 

His grasp on your jaw tightened and he turned your face to him. His eyes were nearly on fire, hardly peeking out beneath his heavy brow, a snarl escaped him as you made eye contact, followed by a nearly sweet expression. His jaw clenched. “ _Say it again.”_

You moaned his name as you started to cum again. Dettlaff’s grip on your jaw relaxed as he nearly curled his body around yours. Your tits spilling out around the forearm that he held you against him with, and the other of his hand held your groin against his. His body rumbled with a low hum against your back and engorged pussy. He held you tightly to him and kept cumming. Then he licked the length of your neck and bit your ear, moaning. Then he stilled, the last ripples of pleasure translating as small flinches inside and around you. Then he relaxed, breathing deeply into your hair. 

You turned over and pulled his face to yours and kissed him fiercely, and he kissed you back just the same. Then it dwindled to him kissing your cheek. Eventually he slid himself down and had one arm around your hips, resting his face next to your baby. He had one of your hands in his. You stroked his head through his hair with the other. He looked up at you. 

“Do you still want your sweets?” he offered, his voice incredibly raspy and handsome sounding. It felt like you were enjoying the sound of his voice more and more with time. 

You really, _really_ loved this vampire. You reached out and cupped his face. He actually started to laugh as he touched the back of your hand with his own. 

“Is that a _yes_ or a _no_?” he tried to clarify but his eyes looked overjoyed and unconcerned for the answer. 

“Nah,” you replied, getting lost in his steely blue gaze, “this is better, for now.” 

“Then maybe you should sleep,” he kissed your forehead, “so you are not so tired for tomorrow.” 

You sighed, _so that was really happening, huh?_ The two of you gave each other sympathetic looks, and you both giggled from it. You readjusted yourself to get more comfortable and he placed you in _his_ arms for sleeping, which had become one of your favorite ways to sleep...being held by him against his broad, muscular chest. Your eyes fluttered.

“Hey Dettlaff,” you started.

“Yes, Maina?” 

“Can you tell me about the different species of vampires there are,” you asked, stroking your belly, “and why they’d make great children?”

He cleared his throat and when he spoke, his voice sounded like it had broken, “I’d love to.” 

He told you in great detail why you would love every single one of them, until you were no longer able to fight sleep.


	19. Adaptations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gang Goes To Orianna's.
> 
> Maina confronts Dettlaff as he is trying to adjust to his new protective instincts that seem to intensify as she becomes more vulnerable with pregnancy. Geralt finally gets to spend time with Maina. She, Regis, and Dettlaff make a move, but not to where they were expecting. 
> 
> They also all find out what it is Yennefer is asking of them...but only a small portion of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH Y'ALL THERE'S NEW ART. They're in the latest art chapter as well as placed in this chapter because I decided to have some self discipline and actually wait to post the writing and the art together. 
> 
> Enjoy! XD
> 
> CW's at the end

The Toussaint countryside was nearing its golden hour, the breeze was warm and friendly, and it smelt of high season flowers. Moisture hung low in the air and you knew it would be a balmy summer evening...your favorite. 

You wondered what kind of food they’d have there as you fidgeted with the neck of the light yellow gown you were wearing under your long jacket. When Regis said he was going to fashion you a dress for this evening, you hadn’t wondered or asked what he was going to use for materials. So you were a little surprised and slightly disheartened to find that you were down one silk Skellegen nightgown, which he had used for the bust, waist, pleat fabric of the skirt. _At least he got the smell out of it._

The carriage bumped and you tottered a bit, before the arm that held you tightened its grip protectively. _Surely_ this pretense was a bit overkill, having to actually _ride_ to Dun Tyne, which you found out was halfway across Toussaint, while _uncomfortably_ pregnant. You sighed. Dettlaff had assured you that he would take you by smoke when you _left_ the party just to get you in the damn open-top landau. You were _not_ enthused about this entire evening. Not to mention the cut of this fucking dress had you reeling, which is why you promptly stuck a jacket around you after getting the stupid thing on.

Dettlaff hadn’t taken his eyes off of you since you left your room after having done your makeup. His energy was pure chaos, and he didn’t seem like he was in much of a talking mood. You figured it had to do with the full moon coming up, or some such. Regis, however, was in the chattiest mood he’d been in since...well, maybe since you’d _met_ him. He couldn’t shut up about this or that, and started explaining _everything_ that he mentioned at length. At the moment, he was talking about the Vintner’s accounts payable something or another. You and your Higher Vampire lover sat quietly and still behind him. Neither of you speaking, when finally you saw a large, imposing building peak out behind the hill you were ascending thanks to Mers and Regis’ mule. 

Finally, the three of you reached the main gate, gave the guard your names, and were allowed into the courtyard through the large stone entrance. Once inside, you looked around you, speechless. There were fountains atop fountains - two stories tall, several buildings scattered around the estate’s yard and each were more fancifully built than the last. _What are all of these buildings for?_ You wondered. It was as if a quaint little town were nestled within the gate of Dun Tyne. Everything was lit up by candles and lanterns that were hung on lines from building to building, hanging from trees, lining the place where the sidewalk met the yard and placed on every table scattered on the veranda. Rose bushes were _everywhere_ and various vines grew up the sides of _everything._ Then, up a line of stairs and at the end of a _second smaller_ courtyard was the large castle of Dun Tyne. It was stately in it’s elegance. 

The landau came to a halt and Regis, obviously excited about socializing, got out first and walked around to the stable boy. You looked to Dettlaff and were relieved to see him looking at something other than you for the first time in how many hours, as he hopped out of the carriage. Slowly, you got up and, with a sigh, started to remove your jacket. _Well, it’s going to happen sometime,_ and handed it to Dettlaff, who stiffened. 

“ _Maina,_ ” he said, throatily, seeing you for the first time in your new garment. His face lit up looking at you. You blushed, turning your face down and away from yourself. Yeah, the dress had turned out to be a bit _much_. 

In the end you’d told Regis to make something flattering and decided to leave the rest up to his interpretation...it just turned out that his interpretation was a bit _revealing and snug._ The fabric felt thinner than you remembered and it hugged your curves, pushing them in places for accentuation. You _looked_ like sex. Well, _sexy_ , despite being pregnant... _‘Fruitful’_ came to mind and you pushed it out.

Dettlaff handed your coat back to you. 

“Put it back on,” he ordered, and it was your turn to stiffen in surprise. 

“ _What?_ ” you asked, blankly.

He put the coat back in your hand.

“You will _not_ walk around like _this,_ ” he said, getting angry. 

There was _definitely_ something up with him tonight. Regis was just returning, so you handed him your outerwear.

“I can walk around in whatever I like,” you told your Higher Vampire, getting out of the carriage. His resilience to you wearing the dress was actually helping you feel more comfortable in it. You _did_ want to ask him what was going on, but you knew you’d only be able to extract that from him if you were able to get _more_ than a few moments alone together. His face contorted into an ugly grimace.

“You disobey me,” he said, getting angrier, and you flinched. _What the actual fuck was going on._ You looked to Regis in hopes of receiving some support, but he was looking just as taken aback by the imposing dark vampire as you were. 

“Maina,” Regis said after finding his voice, “if you’ll excuse us a moment.”

The two vampires stalked away with each other. 

You walked out of the carriage traffic and into the fantastical little square of buildings, lit up like some fairy tale, and sat down at a table. Looking around, you gasped in surprise to see a head of stark white hair, styled half up with the other half strewn about the shoulder, getting mead from a man in a well tailored suit. 

“Geralt!” you yelled at the man, “Geralt!” but he couldn’t hear you over the crowd of people between you and their conversations. Finally, you put your fingers together in your mouth and blew, mimicking his Roach whistle. The man with the white hair turned around and immediately ran over. 

“Maina!” he yelled, trotting up, then looked around and lowered his voice. “Holy shit, Maina, what are you doing here?” He lowered his head to be closer to yours.

“Dettlaff and Regis are friends of Orianna’s,” did he look nervous?  
“Yeah, well, of course they are,” he finished scoping the area and finally looked at you. “Holy _shit_ , Maina.” 

“What?”

You looked down at yourself.

“Actually, Geralt, nevermi-”

“You look,” he eyed you up and down, and made a faux growl, “de _licious._ ”

“ _Please_ don’t do that,” you told him, exasperated.

“You’re right,” he replied, “that _vampire_ probably growls at you enough as is.”

You blushed.

“Oh my god he _actually_ growls at you?” He pushed, then he remembered something and looked around again. “Forget about that. Listen, Maina, _Yennefer_ is _here._ ”

Your jaw dropped, “ _what?_ ”

From where you sat, the coast seemed clear, but _holy shit_ , you thought, _I haven’t told her._ Geralt saw realization color your face and nodded. 

“ _Yeah,_ dude, and you’re obviously very pregnant.” 

“Yes thank you, I’m aware.” you replied snarkily.

Just then you heard an _actual_ growl, and Geralt stood upright. Dettlaff was walking towards you, looking like he was ready to fly off the handle at any _one_ or any _thing_. 

“Get away from her, _witcher_ ,” he spat, walking right up to Geralt and looking down at him, “I have no patience for you to _night_.” After he said the last word he bit the air in front of Geralt, shutting his jaw so that his teeth made an audible _cl-ink_. 

The witcher looked up at him and smirked, but backed away slightly. “I guess I’ll catch up with you later, Maina. If you’re _okay?_ ”

You were still looking up at Dettlaff, and when you spoke, were surprised that your voice was a little shaky, “yeah, I’m-”

“ _Go,_ ” the large Higher Vampire ordered, and the witcher left. 

“...Well _that_ was nice,” you slapped the table with your hands as you got up, and the looming figure had a possessive arm around you immediately.

You sighed, looking at him, because you had a feeling that not letting him do this was going to cause a scene. What was going on with him? You reached out to put a hand on his face, but Regis interrupted the two of you.

“Having a good time?” he asked. You smiled kindly, still grateful for his making you the dress. You looked around, starting to worry about running into Yennefer. Maybe she wouldn’t recognize you... _I really should have listened to Geralt and told her._

_...This is going to be a long night._

  
  


Inside the house was just as beautiful as out, and Regis’ chattiness was proving to be quite helpful in terms of easing your nerves. He seemed to know _everyone_ and everyone had something to say to or about him. Turned out, you were a little surprised by the variety of the demographic in attendance, of which there seemed to be two disparate groups: the wealthy, and the starving artists. You weren’t sure if you liked either of them very much, but it didn’t help that hardly anyone was speaking to you because of the very large, intimidating figure marching around with you in his grips. His expression was one that nearly challenged anyone to even _look_ at you, let alone _talk_ to you. 

At one point in time in the dining room, there was a woman who had obviously taken a liking to your looming bodyguard, because she started to openly _flirt_ with him in front of you, though he seemed to not be paying any attention at all. Still, it made you feel self conscious, and the moment you felt yourself get warm with jealousy was the moment that Dettlaff went from tense to _snarling_ at her. He literally _snarled_ at her until she backed away from either of you. You weren’t sure if you were embarrassed or feeling a bit of admiration for your partner’s loyalty. Especially since this pregnancy made you feel so _insecure_. 

The _rest_ of the effects of his attitude, however, were getting old fast, and you clung to Regis’ side for dear life and fear of navigating the room without him. As the sunset turned to night, the band started playing outside and you were getting thoroughly exhausted. That’s when the two of you, following Regis’ lead, went out on the second story balcony to watch the band below. The air of the night flirted between warmly sweet and coolly biting. You shivered, and Dettlaff whispered into your ear, “Perhaps if you are cold, you can cover yourself _up_ , my _dear_.” 

You were just looking up to scowl at him when you heard a familiar _swooshing, swirling_ sound _._ On the dance floor below you saw the last remnants of a portal disappearing and next to you on the balcony, one just opening up. Your heart froze as a small, beautiful dark haired woman stepped through it. 

“Tisk, tisk, _tisk_ , Maina,” she said, looking at her hand, “Here Geralt tells me that you’ve been here the entire time and haven’t even come to say hi-”

She stopped dead when she saw you, and who was standing next to you. The way he was safe-guarding you, the way he had his arm around you, your belly, and his dangerous demeanor...the situation couldn’t have been made more obvious if you spelt it out and read it through a speaking-trumpet. _Fuck._

Yennefer’s jaw unhinged a peep. Her perfectly kempt face unmoving. 

Then shit hit the fan.

“ _Excuse_ me, Maina?” she asked, for the third or fourth or sixteenth time after you had tried explaining yourself, pacing back and forth in the room she’d soundproofed. Your dark haired lover staring at her like another potential threat. _I’m going to_ kill _him after all this is over…_ “When I sent you here I don’t recall asking you to become _impregnated_ by some sort of _prince of darkness_.” 

She looked Dettlaff up and down, then added mockingly, “Especially such a _charismatic_ prince of darkness.”

He _growled_ at her, clearly not understanding her sarcasm and taking it as a come on. She raised her eyebrows in surprise, then looked at you, then walked to the window.

“That still doesn’t make up for the fact that you were to be working on honing your skills not only to be potentially _worth something_ ,” Dettlaff’s growl deepened in his chest, “but in case the _Lodge_ , you remember them, yes? Maina? _That_ little organization? Comes running to you, or fucking _witch hunters from the north_ decide to pay Toussaint a little visit after your _show_ in _Redania_ , you’ll actually be able to defend yourself.”

She looked at your Higher Vampire, again, considering. 

“...and _not_ in a way that will fuck up the reputation of magic doers. Is that understood?” She asked you. You nodded, still tense and ready for your next flinch worthy moment. “If I would’ve known you were into _men_ ,” she began, and you blushed, “I would have given you something to prevent this. _Permanently_.” 

Dettlaff stood up, you could feel his energy flare at that last statement, “If you _dare_ touch her,” 

“Oh _please_ ,” she barked, getting fed up, “I didn’t come all this way to talk to either of you, truthfully.” She put her hands to her forehead. “It’s Dettlaff, right?”

He nodded. 

“You regenerated Regis, yes?” 

He nodded, energy still on fire. She paced around the room then stopped. “God that _is_ annoying, isn’t it.” 

Neither you or Dettlaff understood what she meant. 

“ _You_ ,” she said, pointing a finger in your direction, “when are you due?”

“I’m not sure, honestly,” you looked down at yourself, “it feels like it’s getting closer, though.” 

The large vampire was holding you protectively again, and you saw Yennefer nearly gag as she rolled her eyes. “ _Congrats_. Well, pregnant or not I’m sending you on a little task, which I expect to be finished when I return. I need you to retrieve something for me from the palace in Beauclair. One of Anna’s old court sorcerers has hidden something of interest to me there. Talk to Geralt about it. You’ll be going with him and Regis.” 

“She’ll be doing nothing of the sort, _sorceress,_ ” Dettlaff snarled, his grip on you tightening painfully. 

“ _That_ is up to Maina.” Yennefer replied, not looking at him, but giving you a severe eyeing, “In the end, whether or not she wants to find her true potential is her decision…” 

She opened up another portal. 

“...or become the wife of a monster. Tell Geralt I had to run.” 

You put your arm on Dettlaff to settle him down until the portal disappeared, and as it closed you were certain you’d heard her say something about hating pregnancies. 

His hand on you tightened. “I forbid you to go.” 

You tried to move his hand off of you, but it wouldn’t budge. 

“ _Dettlaff_ ,” you yelled, “this _hurts_.” 

Something seemed to have gotten through to him a little, and he eased his grip. 

“What is _wrong_ with you?” you began, getting heated, but just then the door opened allowing Orianna into the room. _Fuck_ , _she does not look happy…_

“Dettlaff, would you mind explaining to me _why_ one of the rooms to my new manor has been locked and soundguarded for the past hour?” she asked him huffing into the bed chamber, not even acknowledging you. 

Which was okay by you, in all honesty. 

“The sorceress needed to talk to Maina, Orianna,” Dettlaff replied, chest out and motioning to you as you stood under his arm, which made you feel _some sort_ of uncomfortable. 

Orianna’s eyebrows lifted slightly, “To _her?_ Dear god, _why_?”

Okay, _that_ stung a little. You could feel the large Higher Vampire begin to tense around you. This didn’t seem like it was going well. Orianna crossed her arms, sparing you a glance. 

“My _mate,”_ Dettlaff let you go and took a step forward, “has certain abilities the sorceress finds useful.” 

“Your _mate?_ ” she asked, reassessing you. “A _human?_ Dettlaff, have you gone _mad?_ ”

“Do not make me re _peat_ myself, _lu_ _xsa_ ,” he barked at her, shaking, “I will end you, should you insult her again.”

You realized that you were slowly backing up to the wall when Orianna went to leave. Before she was completely out of the bedchamber, though, your vampire added, “We will be moving in tomorrow.” 

She nodded her head and slid out of the room. You didn’t understand why you started to run after her, but her voice at the other side of the door stopped you from going all the way through it.

“You need him to get that under control if they’re going to keep reproducing,” she said as the clicking of her heels became distant. Just then the door opened and Regis was inches from you. He froze, uncomfortably. You stared up at him, not knowing how to ask for his help silently, and even though you hadn’t said anything, you were pretty certain he’d gotten the message. He tore his eyes from you and nodded.

“Dettlaff, Orianna is quite upset,” he began, pushing you out of the room and into the hall, only so that you could stumble into Geralt, who was leaning up against the wall opposite of the door that just shut behind you. You sighed, exasperated, and he straightened you out.

He gave you a sympathetic look. 

The door behind you rattled and you heard Regis assure the other Vampire that you were fine. Your shoulders raised, preparing yourself to get an earful from Geralt about it, but all he did was squeeze you on the shoulder. 

You looked up at him and realized that you were beginning to produce tears.

“Ah, fuck,” he said, pulling you in for a hug, “it’s okay, Maina.” 

He patted the top of your head and then ended the embrace with a sigh. 

“So like,” he looked around, “can we go for a walk or what? It feels like it’s been a year since I last spoke to you and I actually really miss you.” 

“I miss you, too,” you smiled, wiping a tear from your cheek. You checked on the door behind you and shrugged, “I think we can at _least_ walk to the balcony.” 

He nodded, and once you were on the vast stone and marble balcony he turned around next to the balustrade so that his ass was leaning up against it, and crossed his arms. You stood next to him facing the dancefloor below, watching the party goers twirl and laugh. Finally out of ear shot from the other two, he looked at you and said, “You look ridiculously pregnant.” 

You sighed, “ _Yes_ , Geralt, I _know_.”

“I can’t get over how fucking _pregnant_ you are,” his eyes got wide. 

“I’m a woman, Geralt, I can get pregnant,” you were starting to feel embarrassed about it, “it’s not that weird.” 

He shrugged and turned around to face the dance floor as well. “Is everything alright? Your vam-” he stopped, seeing the look you were giving him, “... _Dettlaff?_ He seems a little _off_ today...more so than usual.” 

You pursed your lips, “yeah, I don’t really know what that’s about, actually.” 

“Maybe you're getting closer to popping,” he suggested, smugly.

“Ew, Geralt…”

“What? You never know, maybe he just gets crazier and crazier until you have the damn--er, the baby.” 

You didn’t like the sound of that, and you didn’t like the fact that you felt like it might actually not be a bad hypothesis. He turned his head to you and gave you an appraisal, then snorted. 

“Hey, is part of that dress my _nightgown?_ ” 

You blushed, and he was laughing. 

“Regis made it,” you said, pushing him. He rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. ...We should probably talk about _him_ , too,” his voice got quieter, “I think you might be some sort of living Higher Vampire _love-bait_ or something.”

You looked down, doing your best to focus on the dancers, “I already know about that, unfortunately.” 

He was quiet for a long time, and when you looked at him, he looked taken aback.

“ _Damn_ .” He finally said, grabbing you a chair and offering for you to sit. “I mean, it was just a hunch, but… _damn_.”

You gave him a sad look, and he offered you another sympathetic one. 

“You _know,_ if this shit ever gets too crazy for you, you’re always welcome to come back and stay at Corvo Bianco. It’s not really the same without you there...and Marlene keeps it cleaner than we did, and I haven’t changed your room at all, so, y’know...”

He trailed off quietly.

“I miss you too, Geralt, and I miss Corvo Bianco,” you looked at the lanterns that were beginning to ascend from the hands of the wishmakers below you. “...and I _do_ plan on going on witcher contracts with you again. Just, obviously not _now_.” 

That seemed to cheer him up a bit, and the two of you watched the lanterns together for some time before you remembered something. 

“Yen told me that you knew the details about what she wants us all to do for her.”

Geralt shifted uncomfortably, “yeah…” he looked around, “maybe not here. Do you think you could get your...get Dettlaff to bring you to Corvo Bianco after this? I’m about to head back there, now.” 

He thought for a moment, his cat eyes focused on the balustrade, “actually if you could get Regis to take you instead…” he eyed your expression, ‘right, then. _Dettlaff it is_.” 

You heard two sets of footsteps reach the balcony. 

“Yes, _witcher?_ ” the dark haired vampire asked, having heard his name. 

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Geralt said under his breath before turning around to face your lover, “Yes, _hello_ Dettlaff. Need to talk to Maina and Regis about Yennefer’s request, and sooner rather than later. Regis, can you bring Maina to Corvo Bianco after you leave here to-”

“ _I_ will bring her,” Dettlaff sneered. Geralt sighed.

“Yeah...I thought that might be your take on it. Fine.” He pushed his weight off of the balustrade and walked in between Dettlaff and Regis, leaving the balcony, “I’ll see you all no later than midnight, then.” He called behind him, coolly.

You stared in shock as Dettlaff actually turned to _follow Geralt_ before you ran after the two of them, but Regis caught you by the wrist. 

“I’d let him do that, for now,” he whispered. You brought your foot back out from under the archway, and closed the door _tightly_ so that it was only yourself and Regis on the balcony. 

“What _the fuck_ is going on with him?” you whispered. 

Regis shrugged. 

“I think it might be fatherly instincts of some sort,” he replied, not looking very happy about what he’d just said. 

“ _Really?_ Will it get better?” you asked, desperate. 

“It _should,”_ he said, thoughtfully, the two of you still in a whisper, “the fact that you’re getting more and more vulnerable as the pregnancy matures probably makes him more and more protective...especially since _you’re_ his primary concern.” 

When he said ‘primary concern’, he’d eyed you in a way that made you think he wasn’t talking about Dettlaff for a moment. You looked away. 

“I’ve known one or two vampires who have been fathers and they were not territorial _or_ crazy, so yes,” it seemed like he was half trying to convince _himself_ , “it should pass.” 

“Well I fucking hope so,” you whispered back. _Or else I’ve really gotten myself into something…_

The door opened slowly and your Higher Vampire walked back out, stony faced and unhappy looking. He immediately stood behind you and put his arms around you. You sighed, and asked Regis for the time. He let you know it was still two and a half hours to midnight. You pried yourself out of Dettlaff’s grip and turned to face him. 

“We need to go somewhere private and talk,” you said, sternly, and planted both of your feet on the ground. 

The large, dark haired vampire stared down at you, his steely blue gaze starting to run across your body. A slight smile parted the side of his lips. He lowered his head next to your ear and whispered, “My _pleasure,_ darling.” 

And the two of you were gone. 

-

You appeared in a place that was cold and damp, and Dettlaff lit a candle. It looked as though you were in a different part of _that_ cave in Mt. Gorgon. Dettlaff was getting undressed, tossing his clothes on what you were pretty certain was an old dresser. 

“ _Hey_ ,” you yelled at him, “what do you think _you’re doing_?”

He turned and looked at you, taking off his shirt and exposing his chest, “I _need_ you.” 

“Oh no you do _not_ ,” you replied, getting angry, “what you _need_ to do is tell me what the fuck is _going_ _on_ , Dettlaff.”

The large, dark haired vampire stopped removing his clothes and folded his arms defensively. _Great._

__

“Are you _okay?_ ” you began.

“I’m _fine_ , Maina,” he replied and started walking towards you predatorily. 

“ _No_ ,” you told him, pushing his chest with your hand. “Why are you acting like such an ass?”

His chest was heaving again. 

“I _need_ you _now_ ,” he shook, his eyes peeking out from a low brow. 

“Why were you being such an ass to Geralt?”

“He looks at you inappropriately,” he replied, pushing towards you. 

“ _He’s my friend,”_ you put both of your hands on his chest, “Dettlaff _stop._ ”

You felt like you were going to cry and it seemed like your vampire finally noticed. 

“What’s wrong?”

Tears were welling in your eyes.

“ _You_ are what’s _wrong_ !” you yelled, “You’re treating me like a piece of _meat_ and I don’t _like it!_ I don’t _like_ you like _this!_ ” You made a gesture towards him, and towards his clothes lying on the floor of the cave. 

Realization colored his face and he blushed, turning away. He was still shaking. 

“I know, Maina” he said, sounding nearly as desperate as you felt for a moment, “I can tell that I feel differently. I just...”

His instincts were obviously going insane. Higher Vampires didn’t reproduce often, so it made sense to you that when they do, they become a little protective. 

You just stupidly thought Dettlaff would be an exception.

“...just want me to be safe?” you asked.

“Yes,” the large shape in front of you rumbled, “and _mine_.” 

“I _am_ yours,” you ensured him. “I can tell that this is hard for you right now, but you need to treat me with respect, okay? I may consider myself to be _yours_ but I’m still my own person... _okay?_ ”

“Okay,” he replied. 

“I’m only asking that you try to be aware of it, okay?”

“Okay,” he repeated. 

You gave him some time to process. He always needed more time to gather his thoughts if he was going to speak. Your patience paid off, because some odd minutes later, your large vampire spoke. 

“It is harder to feel what you want... like this.” 

You nodded. “That’s okay.” 

In all honesty, you were having a more difficult time reading his energy, too. Or maybe you were reading it perfectly and it was still only straight up _chaos._

“I love you,” you clarified, wanting him to feel that it really _was_ okay.

His trembling hand wrapped around your face and he looked into your eyes, “I love you so much,” his voice was throaty and the words came out thickly. Somewhere in the back of your mind you found comfort in the fact that this pregnancy was a trip for _both_ of you, when his mouth enclasped yours forcefully, and you kissed him back. You felt him remove what was left of his clothes, and he pushed you up onto the dresser. “ _Maina_ ,” he said in between breaths, your mouths mashing against each other’s, “I’m sorry,” his voice shaking, “I _need_ you.” He was trembling, and frantic. You were surprised how carefully he was regarding your middle during all of this. 

And you realized that you needed him too, _now._

__

“Fuck me,” you demanded, realizing that you really wanted him, and starting to lift up the skirt of your dress, his hand slid under it and started rubbing the bulb between your lips over the fabric. His body was trembling. Precum was coming out of him already. You hadn’t noticed how excited he’d been...

“Tell me you are _mine_ ,” he rubbed harder and an embarrassing noise escaped you as you twitched. Heat was budding between your legs. He hummed, _“tell me you’re mine, and I’ll fuck you_ ,” his hand slid under your panties and you felt two fingers enter you.

“ _Fuck_ ,” you moaned, your hips jutting forward, further onto his hand, “I’m _yours,_ Dettlaff,” clenching yourself against his fingers as his thumb rubbed your outer nub. “I’m _yours,_ Dettlaff,” you repeated, wanting him to enter you with his already dripping cock. “ _Good,_ ” he whispered, rubbing you faster until he stopped. Then he teased you with his erection at your entrance; it kissed your outer lips and a shiver ran down your spine. “Do you love me, Maina?” He rubbed your clitoris with the end of his dick, “ _go on,_ ” he growled, bucking his hips so that the length of his shaft ran against your bulb, sending another shiver down your spine, “say it.”

“I love you,” you squeaked, pulling his hips so that his member rubbed across your clitoris again, “hmmm, _who_ do you love?” he toyed. “ _Say it_ .” He rolled his hips forward and you flinched in delight. “ _Fuck, Dettlaff I love you_ ,” slowly he pulled his hips back, lining his dick up with your opening, and pushed his erection passed your lips and _deep_ inside of you, opening you up, the head of him hit the back of you and a gasp escaped him from above your head. He felt _so good. “Dettlaff…”_ You wrapped your legs around his hips and squeezed, the length of his hard penis jutting further into you and Dettlaff let out a low grunt. _“Are you mine?_ ” he asked, beginning to fuck you harder from his own excitement. His cock twitched as you clasped your insides around it desperately. _“Fuck,_ ” he was nearly yelling already, the hand that was rubbing you becoming erratic in it’s movement. You could tell he was close, that he’d _been_ close. You felt his dick hit the back of your vagina and you started to feel the first inklings of your orgasm against his thumb and his erection. He sniffed the air, “Are you going to cum for me _?_ ” he asked and bucked his hips once more and you gasped, grabbing at his large muscular back. His cock slid out slightly and his thumb accelerated, putting all of his focus on your clit. “ _Dettlaff_ ,” you yelled, “ _fuc--_ ,” your words engulfed by your moans, your back started to arch and you felt the warmth built in you explode. You could feel his hard dick on your thigh next to your cunt. “Dettlaff, I’m going to _cum_ …” you looked up at him and when your eyes interlocked he smiled crookedly. The sight of it pushed you over the edge as your back arched and you started rolling in your orgasm, discordant noises being pushed from you, his hand still rubbing you vigorously, before he pushed himself back inside you, filling you again, and you felt your insides clench around him involuntarily. 

“F _uck_ ,” you gasped, your lingering high set back into flames by the girth of him. Your insides were pulsing around his hard dick. Dettlaff let out a grunt and it sounded incredible. “ _Yes_ , _that...that_ feels so good,” he moaned, his deep voice mellifluous, he was starting to jar in and out of you, his hands clasped your ass and he pushed and pulled you up and down his _cock_ . HIs balls slapping your ass he thrust harder. His thick erection massaged your insides and you squeezed yourself, wrapping yourself _tighter_ . Dettlaff rubbed up against your clit and you whimpered from how sensitive it still was. “I’m going to cum inside you,” he growled, pushing further into you, the two of you drenched in sweat, “so everyone can smell that you are _mine_.” Dettlaff’s thrusts became wild for a moment, before he stilled, and you realized that seed was already spilling from the tip of his erection, warmth spreading deep inside you. 

He flinched, then shivered. He set you back down on the dresser before he slid himself out of you and nearly collapsed against it, trying to catch his breath. You chuckled quietly as you slid your hand through his silky dark locks. Finally he put his arms around you to pick you up and place you on the ground. 

Then he pulled you in for a loving kiss. 

“That was nice,” he said in your hair afterwards.

You smiled, and you let him hold you there for what felt like a long time.

“Are you ready to go to Geralt’s now?” you asked. 

He groaned, putting his forehead to yours. 

“Will you be good?” you asked. 

He put a hand to your face, gently, and kissed it. 

“If you’re not good, I won’t want to _do_ this as much,” you reminded him. 

“I _know_ , Maina,” he said, eyes closing, “I’ll try my best. It’s just difficult for me, right now.”

He pulled you in closer.

“I go crazy when anyone even _looks_ at you.” 

“But you’ll work on controlling that, won’t you?” you asked. 

He looked down at you, lovingly, _longingly already_ , and nodded. 

“I love you, Maina,” he told you again. 

“I love you too, Dettlaff,” you replied. 

-

The two of you appeared just outside of Corvo Bianco and you had to admit, you missed the place. Maybe there was a way to get Dettlaff and Geralt used to the idea of having the vampires stay in the cellar…

 _Geralt doesn’t miss you_ that _much, Maina._

Walking up the trail through the vineyard, you saw lights coming from beyond the hill of Corvo Bianco. 

“What’s _that_ ?” you asked Dettlaff, pointing. The night air giving you a chill, then, and you shivered. He looked at you with soft eyes and put his jacket around you, kissing the top of your head. _Now_ this _is the Dettlaff I missed…_

“ _Those_ are the tourney grounds,” a voice called. A voice that belonged to Regis, who was jogging up behind you. 

“Hi Regis!” you exclaimed, slightly surprised at how excited you sounded. It looked like the older vampire wanted to beam for a moment, like he _could_ have beamed for a moment, and that warmed your heart. 

“Maina, Dettlaff,” he greeted as he fell into stride with the two of you. The Higher Vampire with his arm around you nodded at him. Regis motioned to the place with the fire’ light, again, “they hold it every year. It’s quite fascinating,” he continued on, “the obsession you humans have with presentations of valor through acts of petty and contrived violence.” 

You snorted, “I’d have to agree.” 

The three of you jogged up the steps of Geralt’s abode and Regis rapped his hand on the front door. The night was so beautiful with the stars and the waxing gibbous moon. You noticed Dettlaff was smiling down at you as you looked up to the sky, and he stole your attention away with a kiss before the door opened and Geralt appeared in the doorway. 

“Nice of you to stop by,” he said dryly, and allowed the three of you inside. You felt the arm around you tighten possessively as you stepped into the warmly lit house.

“Whoa,” you said reflexively as you stepped inside, realizing that your voice was void of all and any inflection. Geralt hadn’t been lying, Marlene really _was_ keeping this place clean. “ _Damn,_ Geralt! _Look_ at this place!” you exclaimed, playfully.

You felt the arm around you tighten and, looking up, saw that Dettlaff was wearing a worried expression. _Did he get_ jealous _of Geralt?_ You reached out and felt his face, and once he had his eyes closed in your hand, his chaotic energy didn’t feel quite as chaotic for a moment. _God_ , you loved him. 

“I _told_ you,” Geralt split the silence in half, blithely, then doubled down on doing so by loudly dragging a chair from underneath the table and planting himself on it. “So, you gonna _sit_ , or what?”

He fell into the relaxed position you knew he loved: feet up on the table, hands behind his head in a cradle. You missed that. You tore yourself from your Higher Vampire and sat down across from him and felt a little pang when you realized this was where the two of you had always sat to eat breakfast. Geralt’s eyes danced as he looked at you, and a smile slowly crept onto his face as he must have been reminded of the same. The two of you shared the moment. 

Then Dettlaff sat down beside you, placing an arm around you, you reached for his hand, wanting to be accomodating to him during this time, while he so struggled with his instincts. His arm pulled you and your chair in closer to him, until you were almost sitting on top of him. You took a deep breath. 

_At least he’s not growling at anybody._

You tightened your grip on his hand and stroked it with your thumb reassuringly. His body relaxed, slightly.

Finally Regis sat down next to Geralt. “I’m familiar with parts of this request from Yennefer, Geralt. I can’t say that the Duchess is going to grant me audience, but I can try.” 

Your mouth popped open as you stared at the two of them. _The Duchess is a part of this?_

“We’ll get to that yet, Regis.” Geralt said, perking up in his seat a bit. He looked at all of you meaningfully, then took a deep breath and started his part. “So... the three of us,” he paused, remembering Dettlaff, “I suppose _four_ of us, have some preparation work underway, and after having thought about it, think it might be easiest if we all stay in one spot. I’m not staying in a graveyard, and all of my shit’s here. There’s also enough _room_. So, Corvo Bianco it is.” 

Your heart jumped in happiness. _What are the odds?_ You thought, giddy about being able to live with...well, with your best friend, again. You felt Dettlaff stiffen, but to his credit, didn’t say anything _or_ cause the room to quake from rumbling. 

“Good?” Geralt asked, looking around, no one said anything, and eventually Regis gave a terse nod. “Good. We’ll try to get this over with as quickly as possible, but the outline of what Yen is asking of us is...well, complicated.” 

Regis snorted unflatteringly at his last statement. Geralt ignored him.

“I guess I’ll just get right into it.” He cleared his throat and took another breath, “Anna Hennrietta used to have in her employment a skilled illusionist by the name of Artorius Vigo, who worked for her up until very recently. Yen believes that Artorius has something very important to her, a highly magical mask of some sort, and wants us to retrieve it from him. The only problem being that a month and a half ago, Artorius Vigo disappeared from the face of the earth. She thinks that she has a good idea of where to start our search for him.”

You looked at him, eyebrows pulled downwards. “ _Where?_ ”

“We’re not sure. She said the answer might be hidden in a book, though, and suggested we start by finding that.” 

You sighed. This didn’t seem as exciting as you were hoping it would be. Dettlaff’s hold on you loosened a bit. 

“She also told me that the book might have a powerful illusion in it, so we should be careful,” he frowned, and you realized that you too, were frowning. _A powerful illusion in a_ book?

“Nothing ever being easy, the book is in a secret room in the Beauclair palace, or a room that is completely an illusion itself... or so Yen thinks. She also believes the book is still in the possession of the Duchess Anna Henrietta herself. So our first task is to find out whether or not she still has it and where it is.

“So far, the plan is this: _I’ll_ use my medallion to scope out where the hidden room is. After doing so, since Regis knows the duchess, I’m hoping that she will speak to him about whether or not she is still in possession of the book or aware of its whereabouts. That being said, she _can_ lie, so I’ll want you _two,”_ to your surprise, he pointed to you and Dettlaff instead of Dettlaff and Regis, _“_ to do your little smoky number _while_ Regis is speaking to her, and go into the hidden room to look for it. Then we’ll reconvene here, and take a closer look at it. _Hopefully_ , we’ll find a hint on his whereabouts in it.

“In case the book _does_ have a powerful illusion in it, we’ll prepare accordingly. For now, preparing those precautions and finding the book are our main goals. Any questions?”

You stared at the white haired witcher across the table. You couldn’t be certain if you didn’t have any questions at all, or if you just didn’t know where to start. Geralt went back to his relaxed pose of his hands behind his head, Dettlaff tightened his arm around you again.

“What kind of illusion can the book have in it that we have to start preparing for it now?” you asked, curious. 

You were surprised when it was Regis, not Geralt, who answered, “Illusions can be incredibly powerful, Maina. The book could have evil beings in it, it could transport us somewhere in the waking world, it can convince us we’ve gone mad...for instance.” 

You swallowed. _What a lovely list he compiled…_

Regis sighed, then, standing up.

“Well, Dettlaff, would you like to go back to the graveyard with me and retrieve our things? Maina’s included?” 

You felt a large muzzle in your hair as the large Higher Vampire leaned over and kissed you on top of your head. “ _I love you_ ,” he whispered in your ear again. Then he nodded to Regis, and the two of them vanished. 

Geralt looked after them in surprise, his hands still behind his head, then back to you, “Well, _that_ took less convincing than I expected.” 

The two of you stared at each other, smiles beginning to blossom on both of your mouths.

“So...ready to live together, again?” he asked, and you got up out of your chair, feeling a tinge of reckless energy inside you, the kind that Geralt _always_ brought out in you.

He got up too, and the both of you hugged. He _laughed_ , squeezing you carefully about the shoulders and transferring his weight from leg to leg. It warmed your heart. You were the first to break the hug. You had some ground rules for him, on Dettlaff’s behalf, but you didn’t exactly know what they were, yet.

“About that, though,” you said, looking around, you went to the front door and motioned for him to follow you out of it. You sat at the table on the wooden patio and waited to continue until after he sat down across from you. You looked up at the stars again, entranced. They created such a rich tapestry in the sky. You wondered what galaxy was streaking across it in blues and purples before you brought your attention back to Geralt. 

“It’s not going to be _exactly_ like before, us living together, you know,” you told him. He gave you a look of mock surprise.

“You mean it’s _not_ going to be the same now that you’ve gotten yourself all big and pregnant with a member of an incredibly powerful and deadly race? Who walks around attached to your hip and thinks I’m trying to ro _mance_ you?”

You looked at him, raising both of your eyebrows to look stern, because his playfulness was certainly not making you _feel_ stern, and went on, “I’m asking you to be considerate around him. He’s... _going_ through some things with this pregnancy,” you didn’t stop at Geralt’s snort at that, “and he’s _very_ territorial of me right now because of it.” 

The white haired witcher looked at you with an expressionless face. “Are you asking me to tiptoe around my own house?”

“You’re the one who invited the _very_ pregnant _mate_ of a Higher Vampire to come live with you, Geralt. What did you expect to happen?” You replied, and he frowned slightly.

“I _guess_ you’re _partially_ right,” he replied, dramatically. “But I mean, it’s not like you had any better place to live.”

You bit your tongue, thinking about Orianna’s mansion... _Dettlaff’s_ mansion. You wanted to laugh just _thinking_ those words. 

“ _What?_ ” Geralt asked, keen to the fact you were withholding information. You sighed.

“Orianna gave Dettlaff her Beauclair mansion.”

His jaw dropped.

“ _Who_ the _fuck is_ this _guy?_ ” His voice inflection earned what he wanted from you, and giving in, you laughed at how histrionic he was being. 

“But really,” said after calming down, “be considerate of him, _okay?_ He’s trying.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Well,” you blushed, not wanting to repeat anything Dettlaff said directly, “No doing that thing you do with your eyes when you look at me, if he’s in the room.”

“ _Excuse_ me?” Geralt asked, a stupid smile back on his incredulous face. 

“That _thing_ you do with _your eyes,_ Geralt.” 

“ _What thing_?” he asked, doing the exact thing with his eyes that you were trying to describe to him. 

“ _That!_ There,” you said pointing at his face and he buckled over laughing. 

“Fuck _off_ Maina,” he said between squeaks below the table.

You were starting to giggle, too. _God damn it, Geralt._

“You don’t know what I’m talking about?” you asked as he came above deck again. Giving him the dumbest face you could conjure up as payback.

“ _No,_ I certainly do not.” 

You looked at him as if he told you pigs could fly before trying to explain it to him.

“Your eyes get squinty like you’re excited...like you’re in the middle of pulling a prank on someone and trying not to spoil it. That’s how you look _at me_ . Like you’re up to something. Like _we’re_ up to something,” you said, trying to be stern again, but the corners of your mouth were curling upwards again. He barked out a laugh.

“ _Maina_ that’s because we always _are_ up to _something,”_ he replied. “We try to get on each other's nerves _constantly_ ...that’s what our relationship is _based off of_.” 

You sighed, “well, we’re just going to have to try to cool it on being annoying to each other when Dettlaff is around.” 

“ _Okay_ ,” he replied sarcastically.

“I mean it,” you said. 

“I know...I mean it, too,” he replied, reworking his mouth to try to relax his face muscles from their smile, “I promise. I know I don’t look serious, but I am. I’m just happy, I swear.” He winked, “Scouts _honor_.” 

“Thank you,” you said, looking up at the stars to get the giggles under control, until you were comfortably in silence. The two of you sat at the table for a while longer, watching the dark wisps of smoke travel to and from the building. 

-

You were just changing into a nightgown Dettlaff had laid out for you on your bed when dark black and red smoke traveled in through the window. You rubbed your baby bump absentmindedly as it flowed around you, up, down, and below you before you heard his voice travel through it.

“Anything I’ve forgotten?” his voice billowed with the movement of dark mass as it curled itself around your middle. 

“No, thank you,” you smiled, running a hand through it in a slight awe, “you’ve remembered everything.” 

His body cut through the sound of his sigh as he began to reappear. You took the moment to tuck yourself into your bed, wondering how it was going to feel to have your lover in it next to you. Wondering if he was going to _fit_ in it next to you. He was much larger than anything that’s ever slept in it, you were fairly certain. The mattress dipped at his weight, and you slid down next to him involuntarily...yet happily.

 _“Mmmm_ ,” he hummed lowly in your hair as he wrapped an arm around you, “this is where I want to be.” 

You breathed in, feeling suddenly _very_ calm, “me too.” 

“Do you love me, darling?” he whispered into your hair. 

You realized that since he started getting all papa bear from your being pregnant, he’d taken to calling you darling, and you had _zero_ complaints about that.

“I love you _so_ much, Dettlaff,” you interlocked eyes, turning up your face to him, “ _always._ ”

He closed his eyes and smiled, peacefully at the sound of your words. But his smile faded after some time. He opened his eyes, and he said staring blankly forward, “I want to kill the witcher.” 

You sighed, “but you _won’t_.”

He stilled. 

“...Dettlaff, I can’t love you if you kill people who are dear to me.” 

“He is _dear_ to you?” he asked.

You sat up, looking him in the eyes and cupping his face in your hands.

“You are the dearest thing in the world to me, Dettlaff. And Geralt is my _friend_ , and I am a human, and humans need to have _friends_ , okay?”

His eyes averted yours, slightly.

“O _kay?_ ” you asked, pulling his face to align with yours. 

He nodded, “fine.”

You smiled, “thank you.”

He grunted and wrapped his arms around you. 

“I love you, Maina,” he whispered in your hair. You yawned and started to fall asleep in your favorite place against his chest.

“Oh, I love you too, my big strong protector,” you weren’t even being sarcastic. You felt his chest swell underneath you and you knew it was from pride. You drifted off to sleep. 

-

In the night you dreamt of a talkative black panther, a winged cub who loved you, curious mushrooms, a witch on a stick, and a boy who cried wolf...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW's descriptions of sex, jealousy, possessiveness


	20. Dettlaff's Gotta Big, Big, Big Heartbeat Yeah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maina tries sword fighting, practices her Vampiric, and gets her blood sucked by Dettlaff (strictly fluff).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure why Animal Collective's Purple Bottle got roped into the title (yes I do, it's because it's sweet and honest like our killer leading Vampire), but it did. 
> 
> I just want to take a moment to thank all y'all for commenting and giving kudos and just general encouragement. This whole craziness in the world has been stressful for me where I live, and I've been down a lot. I'm glad I can make something that you can enjoy, and I'm grateful for each and every one of you for giving me an audience for this thang. Also to all other creators of content on here who are inspiring and supportive. You are all so cool.
> 
> Hoping to do more reading of other creator's Dettlaff fictions these coming weeks, too. There are so many good ones out there and being written currently.
> 
> Oh, and give me feedback if you want about how I'm handling the bilingualism of a slightly imaginary language and mostly Dead Language of Etruscan, because that's what they use in the games for Vampiric (yeah, I sold my contacts to academia to access what we as a human race know about Etruscan). I should note that some of the definitions of the words in Etruscan are so beautiful and observational that I'm probably going to include them in the below notes of some chapters. 
> 
> Super side note: I also just discovered Air (the French duo from the aughts) and listened to "How Does It Make You Feel" a metric shitton today for the first time, so if you want an inkling of why this chapter turned out the way it did, it's cause of ye olde sadness and helpful music lol.
> 
> This is going to be a long ass fan fic.
> 
> Alright you lot, hope you enjoy this chapter. CW's at the end; they should be mild.

The sun was high above you as you jumped backwards and wiped off a trail of sweat running down your brow with the back of your forearm, a wooden sword narrowly missing your face. You bent over, then, gasping for air. 

“I _told_ you,” Geralt said lightly, hopping onto the stone fence, looking vindicated. You stuck out your tongue at him as he threw you a clean rag to wipe your face off on. 

He’d been right, of course, and you’d known when you asked him to spar with you that you wouldn’t be able to go for more than five minutes, and possibly not even that. You wiped your face with the towel, bent at the hips, squinting up at him. He chuckled at you. It’s not like your intention was to actually _spar..._ you just...wanted to do something other than sit around, and since you’d only had your silver sword for a total of twelve hours before you’d become ‘indisposed’, you were anxious to see if you’d lost all your skill. No, you were just worried that you’d lost all of your skill...and you hadn’t had a lot to begin with. A sour feeling was tingling in the corners of your jaw and you started to feel like you were going to outturn your insides. You focused on your breathing a bit, walking over to the stone fence next to Geralt. 

It was _so_ hot outside. You could barely smell the flowers and herbs with the humidity _drowning_ you and the hot Toussaint sun beating down on you. He tossed his water bladder and you took a chug, swishing the contents in your mouth and spitting them out on the ground. Drinking water when you were nauseous always made you puke. At the sight of you spitting it all out, Geralt gave you a look of accusation. 

“Drinking water when I’m nauseous always makes me puke,” you said between heavy breaths, becoming your own echo. His eyes widened in response and he scooted himself further over on the fence, pretending to be worried about it. “Oh,” you put your hand on the fence and let your head hang, “ _Shush_.”

“Well?” he asked, kicking out one of his legs straight then bending it at the knee to cross it over the other. “You _do_ notice them, right?”

With your palms on the gravelly surface of the fence, you pushed, standing yourself upright and looked at him, shrugging. You’d only been able to experience your mutations without being sick and pregnant feeling for about as long as you had had with your sword. You frowned, Yennefer’s words were ringing in the back of your head, and you were starting to feel like all the progress you’d made was for nothing. 

“I guess things still seem sharper,” you replied, then smirked, “ _you_ still seem _slow_.” 

That was a downright lie, of course, and Geralt hardly entertained the joke, to your surprise. It looked like he was thinking about something. “I’m sure you’ll notice them more after the birth.” He removed a glove from one hand and scratched his beard with it, “I doubt you would have been able to stand there and swing a sword around uselessly if you _didn’t_ feel your mutations with how far along you are.” 

He looked Northwest to past Corvo Bianco to the tourney grounds at the sound of trumpets, and grunted. Your eyes followed his and you saw, standing at the rest of the hill next to the garden pergola was your vampire, who seemed completely unaffected by the heat in his dark leather frock. “Come on,” Geralt said, hopping off the stone fence, “let’s get you back up to the house.”

You fiddled with your boot buckle before starting to follow him. You were getting excited about being able to fit into your armor again, eventually. Geralt waited for you with the two wooden swords in his hand. 

“Are you still okay with taking Mers out later?” you asked him as you tossed him back his rag. Mers was hardly on speaking terms with you at the moment, and you couldn’t feel more guilty about it. The worst part was that you were having a hard time feeling his energy lately, so you couldn’t even go feed him carrots when he was _most_ upset. You tried to convince yourself that wasn’t an excuse, too...because despite not being able to feel his energies, you still could have _tried harder._ Fatigue, and crankiness, and every once in awhile an odd bout of euphoria had you easily distracted, though. A hot breeze ran through your hair and you looked up to the sky, taking in a deep breath. You wished you were at your Beauclair estate just for the pool. 

“Of course,” Geralt replied, squinting somewhere in the distance with his head cocked, probably sensing something far off that you were incapable of sensing with your mostly human abilities, bringing you back to the Corvo Bianco and out of the Beauclair Mansion that you wanted to be in. “I bought you the horse, didn’t I?”

 _Did he buy me that horse?_ You’d been under the impression that he’d stolen it or won it in a game of Gwent. 

The two of you made it to the top of the hill and passed under the pergola where Dettlaff _had_ been standing. You looked around, and heard one of the workers make some sort of comparison between women and wine. 

“Have I ever told you that some of your workers here are kind of disgusting dudes?” you asked your friend as the two of you reached the stable. He tossed his gloves on a bench near the grindstone. 

“Yes, you _have_ . About a million times.” He leaned against the workbench and crossed his arms. “And _I_ kept getting replacements to no avail, remember?”

You bit your lip, grabbing an apple out of a bucket for Mers. You _did_ remember. It was the third month of your stay at Corvo Bianco and you’d just gotten comfortable enough with him to tell him that some of the men’s behavior in his vineyard was perturbing. You stood and handed Mers the apple, and he bit into it with large, humanlike teeth, apple juice seeping down your hand. 

You shook an inappropriate image of Dettlaff’s…

“Shouldn’t you get into the cellar, by the way?” Geralt interrupted your thoughts, and you were grateful for that. “It’s past noon,” he stuck his head out from underneath the overhang, “gotta be.” 

_Shit_ . Yeah, the sun was _definitely_ hanging past its high point, and shadows were emerging around everything...everything that could produce a shadow, at least. You grabbed another apple for yourself. You hoped Regis wouldn’t mind your stank. 

...You actually didn’t want to think about how much he probably _wouldn’t_ mind it. You walked off towards the cellar and yelled out behind you, “thanks, Geralt!”

The door closed behind you with a heavy, two part _clank_. It took a moment before your mutated eyes adjusted and you could see again. At least that gave you comfort. You wondered what Regis had prepared for lunch as you knocked on the door to the alchemy room. From what Geralt made it sound like, he and Marlene were doing battle over who had rights to the kitchen. You chuckled internally as the door swung open and Regis and let you in. 

“No books?” he asked, as you walked by him and sat on the cushiony chair that had mysteriously been brought down here for you one night, and no one confessing of doing so. The room was so small.

“Shit,” you said, blushing, “I’m sorry, Regis. I tried going over some swordplay techniques with Geralt just before coming here and I-”

“Which is why you are late, no doubt?” he asked, sitting down. He took a breath, putting his hands on his face. You’d been practicing alchemy and learning vampiric with him every afternoon since the three of you came to stay, and you’d been late to more than a few of your sessions. 

“I’m sorry, Regis,” you started, “really, I am.” 

You really wanted to blame it on your hormones, to tell him that it couldn’t be helped, but it was just...difficult to come down to a cellar in the middle of the day when it was beautiful outside. His hands finally slid down his face as he lifted it and shook his head, as if waking himself up. He walked over to the alchemy table and rolled out a linen canvas bag filled with tools.

“I think today I should like to start with decoctions,” he said, grabbing two small paring knives before walking over to the ingredients cupboard. Quickly you got up and followed him to the table, trying to make up for being tardy, and started to cut up Moleyarrow as he sorted hop umbels. 

“Leshen?” you asked, cutting the stems just below the bud cleanly, being sure not to tear any of the green part. You were pretty certain Moleyarrow was primarily used for Leshens. He nodded at you in approval.

“Very good,” he grabbed a jar of crow’s eyes, “though it could have also been for Wyverns,” he added. 

The two of you stood cutting ingredients in the cool cellar for a while. You wondered what leshens were like. You knew that Geralt absolutely _hated_ them, well, he hated _dealing_ with them on the behalf of other people, more so. After a while Regis lit a fire under the cauldron you used for brewing and put the rest of the ingredients in it. He told you that you’d make three more batches before starting your lesson in vampiric, though every once in a while he would rattle off something in the language or ask you a question about it, applying it to alchemy. Halfway through the second batch he got out the mutton he’d prepared for both your lunches, and you ate it, happily. He was mixing the ingredients on the last one when he became pensive.

“Dettlaff tells me that you two are going to his cave in Mt. Gorgon tonight?” He swirled the liquid mixture in the pot and covered it, turning around and leaning his weight against the counter. He looked tired again.

Your hand went to your middle absentmindedly as you went for a pouch containing pingrapes. _Right_ . _The cave_ . A twitch lifted the corners of your mouth. You were looking forward to that, you thought. Dettlaff wanted to be able to spend time with your child in his bat form before it came into this world. He had convinced himself that after it was born it would be afraid of him when he was configured like that. You didn’t believe the same. You rubbed the bump where your baby lay, _how could you not love your father?_ You thought to it, _when he loves you so much already?_

Regis cleared his throat and your mind returned to the dimly lit cellar laboratory. Heat filled your cheeks. “Um, yes, we are.” You looked at him quizzically, “is that okay?”

His eyebrows tensed, and his eyes averted yours at the moment of speaking, looking instead to pieces of parchment he had prepared for your lesson in vampiric, “have you prepared yourself for that, Maina?”

You searched his countenance, trying to decipher what he meant, exactly. “I’ve been with him in _that_ form...if that’s what you mean.” 

He looked surprised, “you _have_?”

You nodded. You’d seen Regis in _his_ bat profile as well. “After you showed me what it was like, I insisted he get it over with.” 

He blushed, deeply, “You’ve been _with_ him in that form?”

 _Oh god_. 

“No!” you clarified, jumping, and being entirely too loud about it. Regis drewack. You felt bad for yelling that, and lowered your voice, “I mean, no.”

The muscles around his eyes tightened, and you were surprised to see him still looking at you in such a severe way. 

You went to grab your book then remembered that you hadn’t brought it, so you just sat down on your chair next to his desk, “I’ve just been _around_ him while he’s transformed, is what I meant.” You let out a sigh, “It was actually quite nice. I could read his energy more easily.” 

“Naturally,” Regis replied, impressed. He leaned back, looking at you for a moment before pouring the last decoction into separate vials and sitting down at the desk. “I don’t know why I continue to bother being surprised by your ability to accept us.” 

“You both mean a great deal to me, Regis,” you told him, still resting a hand on your ever growing bump, “and you both accept me for who _I_ am. Why wouldn’t I accept you?”

He took a deep breath and opened the book in front of him on the desk.

“Presta perk?” he asked if you were ready to begin in vampiric. 

“Es sum,” _yes, I am._

Regis sounded so much more natural speaking in Vampiric, which was really saying something, given how elegant an English speaker he was. He made you feel thoroughly unimpressive at times. 

“Plenas usus,” _complete the work._ He handed you the parchment and you frowned. 

“Ut?” _In what manner?_ He’d written several questions down in English, than a few in Vampiric. “Mutin?” _Change them?_

He shook his head, “Mutin is for mutate or morph. Naich nam _flics._ ” _It is by no means the same as ‘flicks’, to alter them._

You shrugged, rolling your eyes. “Fine, but do you want me to translate these sentences or answer them?”

“Ad.” _Both._ He smiled. You sighed. Then remembered something. 

“I thought _plenas_ meant pregnant?” you said. 

“It also means _complete_ ,” he replied, beginning your next worksheet, “Also, remember our rule.” 

_Right. Only speak in vampiric during the lesson unless absolutely necessary._ You really hated that rule. It was _so_ annoying trying to figure out how to get an answer to a question you didn’t even know how to _ask._

You started to translate the questions, and it seemed there had been a theme. 

“Cim…” a grunt escaped your mouth. You didn’t _know_ how to ask what you wanted to ask in Vampiric. You saw Regis smile slightly by your frustration and that annoyed you. You got out your book and, looking up what you wanted to ask, started rubbing your belly again. When you looked up you saw that Regis was watching you as you did so. 

“Sisi fetura evalta ad thi,” _I very much long to bring forth young with you..._ he whispered so quietly under his breath that you were certain you weren’t supposed to have heard it. But you did.

“What?” you asked, your heart starting to beat faster. You didn’t like being in this small space right now. He didn’t look at you. He just kept writing as if he hadn’t said anything. But you’d heard him.

Your heartbeat quickened, and you grabbed your things and went to leave, but Regis was at the door before you could grip the handle. You froze. 

“Regis…” you started, but didn’t have anywhere to go with the statement. You were uncomfortable and didn’t want to be here. 

He had his hand on the door and his head hanging by his shoulder, you backed away, slowly. “I’m sorry, Maina,” he said. 

You stopped backing away, but didn’t move closer. You couldn’t speak. 

His shoulders heaved on his slouched body, all of his weight pushing on the one hand he had on the door. 

You heard yourself swallow. 

“Please,” his body started to ripple, then, and you realized that your ass had found the cushion of your seat without meaning to. The next thing you knew, he was in his transitional form, and it sounded like he was crying.

Just then you heard a knock at the door and Geralt’s voice sound through it, “Hey, Regis,” he said loudly to make sure either of you could hear him, “I’m gonna need Maina for a second, send her out.” 

The older vampire, with his claws and his fangs and his heaving, backed away from the door and you rushed yourself out of it, leaving him there in the dark, dank, cellar laboratory. 

“God,” you said as soon as your face reconvened with the sun, your hands went to your knees and you lost the lunch Regis had made you into the bushes. Two hands were holding back your hair. 

“Yeah,” Geralt said, taking one of his hands to rub your back, “I sensed Regis’ agitation and figured something was going on.” 

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and stood up, starting to walk to the stable, you were going to spend some time with Mers, _damn it._ Geralt followed you. _Right._ “Thanks, Geralt,” your voice sounded inexplicably saddened. 

“Yeah, well,” he stood next to Roach and tossed you one of the horse brushes for Mers, “I couldn’t let Dettlaff get to it first, else I wouldn’t have a _cellar_ anymore, would I?”

He pat Roach and she whinnied happily. He looked in the direction of the cellar. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” 

You shivered, “No. It wasn’t...it wasn’t like that, I guess.” You were going to need to be able to talk to _someone_ about this… “He said…” 

The rest of it wouldn’t come out; you couldn’t get yourself to do it. You sighed.

“He said something, that’s all,” you brushed Mers a little harder. 

Geralt was still regarding his cellar entryway, “Well he’s going to need to figure out how to keep his feelings to himself until we finish this ridiculous errand Yen has us doing,” he looked at you, “or she’s going to draw and quarter me.” 

You gave him a look. “Geralt,”

“Can’t believe he accused _me_ of being in love with you and here is…”

“ _Geralt,”_ you said, “go talk to him if it’s bothering you. He could probably use it. I don’t think he has anyone to talk to about it.” 

Geralt looked at you out of the side of his glance, arms crossed. He huffed and walked off towards the cellar. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said as he went, “I’ll be back out in a second.” 

You switched out to the next brush, seriously doubting that speaking to Regis would only take a _second_. Your feet hurt, and you decided to abandon the brushing to sit on the fainting couch Geralt had on the veranda. You were just about to sit, thinking about how impressed you were at Dettlaff’s restraint, when you felt two large vampiric hands wrap around your middle. It was followed by the sweet smell of cedarwood, and the sharp scent you could never place. You felt yourself relax, and your stomach didn’t feel as queasy, now. You turned around and looked up at the dark haired Higher Vampire. 

_Had you been tensing your shoulders before?_ You wondered, 

His steely blue eyes looked you up and down, taking a few more seconds to linger on what was both of yours between you. He closed his eyes and his nostrils flared, taking in your scent. His large jaw was working itself. 

“Hausa?” Dettlaff asked, speaking Vampiric. His deep velvety voice sounded _so_ _good_ with his mouth and tongue wrapped around his native language. _Draw out blood_ , you recognized the word in vampiric. _Of course he can_ , you thought. He’d taken off his jacket, and was in his red satin erminio shirt, unbuttoned some- his dark chest hair as well as the very top and middle of large pectorals were peaking out of it. You swallowed, following the line between his pecs past his suprasternal notch, to his jugular, then his jaw. So angular and prominent, a permanent five o clock shadow appeared even when he was clean shaven, the place his beard would have been permanently darkened by the buds of thick beard hair. _He was the epitome of masculine,_ you thought to yourself. He would make a fine father, he already was proving to be the ultimate mate. What would you have to worry about? With him being the top of the food chain?

You were weakening in the knees. The right side of his mouth pulled back and up, parting his lips and revealing his teeth, it was almost a smirk. 

“ _May-_ nah,” he rumbled, putting his large, vampiric muzzle in between your jaw and your shoulder, tickling you with his breath and stubble, “you’re doing it again, _my dear_.” 

“Mmm,” you replied, giggling at the too light touch of his coarse chin. He sighed into your neck and you swooned like puddy. You reached out your right hand and touched the side of his angular face, feeling his cheekbone jut into your palm, your thumb didn’t reach his nose, and your fingers didn’t reach his hair. You were breathing heavily, and felt light as air at the same time. You felt something large tickle its way up your middle and rested underneath your midsection, cupping what was his, too. His hand nearly engulfed the entirety of it. 

“You never answered me, darling,” he said quietly into your ear. His smell was doing something to you. His gruff was doing something to you. You felt utterly powerless against him and were so glad he was here to protect you, not harm you. You tried to focus. 

“ _Please_ do, Dettlaff,” you felt a ripple of pleasure run up from between your legs as you spoke his name, with him so near. You felt his dark silky hair tickle your ear, and his nose graze, then firmly plant on your neck as his sharp teeth elongated and broke skin, first the top, with a wave of heat that followed, then he sighed in relief, as if pent up tension were being drained out of him. The rough skin of his broad chin scraped downwards as he opened his mouth further, his tongue making itself welcome. Then you felt his sharp lower teeth grow into fangs until they dug into you as well, and you shuddered. 

“ _Mmmm,_ ” he moaned. You felt his other large, vampiric hand come up and cradle the side of your face, neck, and jaw. His thumb massaged the doughy part of your cheek as his fingers tensed and relaxed in pleasure he partook on the other side of you. A shiver ran through your body, and your hands filled with his large forearms. The smell of cedarwood, the scent of your mate, filled you and you felt, for a moment, that this was as good as your other physical intimacy. For a moment your body told you that this _was_ better than that. He was still sucking on your neck, and the rest of his body drew nearer, you could tell that the something was hard against your leg, and that it was his arousal. He moaned, taking his time. He drew out his fangs instead of retracting them, and you felt his nose graze your skin again before he kissed you and moved to the other side, biting down again. 

“Dettlaff…” you murmured, in a daze. You notice that you were aroused, too. There was wetness building in between your legs. His lips puckered and he rumbled. His other hand went to the side of your neck already bitten and stroked the fresh wound until it didn’t sting. Then, finally, you felt his fangs retract. 

“Maina,” he said quietly in your ear, “you are the most, unfathomably delicious creature in this world,” his nose grazed the place just behind your ear as he said it, exhaling warm, sweet smelling breath into your nostrils. You inhaled it, feeling a wave of pleasure peak and ripple through your body. You shuddered in Dettlaff’s arms and they held you, “and I love you _so very much_ , my darling. Thank you for having my children,” he kissed the place just below your ear, before his deep, velvety voice sent more vibrations down your spine, “I can’t wait to see you mother them. The thought alone makes me crazy with desire to have more.” Your body was engulfed with him. In that moment, there was only Dettlaff. The rough feeling of his coarse skin just under your ear next to your jaw, on his hands as they cupped your head and supported the weight of your baby, the damp place where his arousal had been on your leg, the silky featherings of his hair that wrapped around his ear and flickered out in your peripherals, how you could feel his prominent cheek bone on top of yours as he spoke in your ear, his cedarwood scent, heady and warm. His energy was soothing like a tide, rolling up and down your body, leaving you naked and exposed, ready to be engulfed by his waters once more, while still keeping the rest of you afloat. Your body was on fire, if fire was cool and warm at the same time, if fire hugged you and pulled and pushed you in a slow lullabye that made you forget and awoke your senses simultaneously. If fire was Dettlaff, but fire was not so good as he. “I am so weak to your being,” his low voice continued, velvety and wise, “I will always do anything for you.” 

He kissed you again and pulled you down next to him on the fainting sofa you’d intended to sit on what was only minutes before. You looked up into his steely blue eyes, guarded safely by his brow, and asked “you are my family?”

There was a hole in your heart where that word should have meaning, and you realized that you had been guarding it, safely, from him. You didn’t want to continue to do that. And when you continued to look into his eyes, they morphed, _mutin_ , into something soft and loving. His brow shifted into concern and passion, the icy blue in his irish flowing as if set in motion by your trepidation. 

“Oh, Maina,” Dettlaff’s voice was colored by something recognizable. It was the sound of someone who _knew_ what you were asking. Of someone who truly knew what it was you were asking. Who had experienced the reason behind your own concern, and who had experienced it for a great many years longer than you had. A long nail from his thumb brushed your chin before the soft pads of that finger, and he kissed you lightly on the mouth, lingering there for a moment. His deep voice was on your lips when he said, “you are my family, now. Forever, my darling.” 

You _were_ excited for the cave tonight. You would give him anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW's: uncomfortable situation with someone trusted, blood sucking, getting feels from it, talk of pregnancy and symptoms.


	21. Regis Sketch 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drew up a (semi) quick Regis today, am going to add it to the Art chapter after the next chapter is up and this chapter will be deleted at that point in time. Chapter chapter chapter chapter. 
> 
> Figured one more Regis sketch couldn't hurt us :P and this seemed like an appropriate time to do that.  
> 
> 
> Will make more of Dettlaff this week. Mmm.


	22. A Nervous Father to Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Overcoming one of his biggest fears, our sweet, sweet Dettlaff takes Maina to his cave in order to meet their unborn child in his bat form. Meanwhile, Maina has to grapple with the fact that even _she _is slightly afraid of him in that form.__
> 
> _  
> _The next morning, he explains something to her._  
> _

  
  
  


Standing at the foot of your bed in the loft, you stared at the _two_ same sundresses you’d been wearing for the past _two_ weeks and sighed. _I really hate these fucking dresses,_ you thought to yourself. It’s not that you hated sundresses. Sundresses were great...but when they were literally all you could wear and you felt your body trying to _fall out of them_ constantly, well, it was enough to get on _anyone’s_ nerves. You picked up the green one, put your arms through the short sleeves and tossed it over your head, letting it slide the rest of its way over you. _Not bothering with small clothes,_ you told yourself. _Those_ particular garments were hardly fitting anymore, and they were uncomfortable. Besides, it was already dark, and you were only just going to that cave with Dettlaff, who was there now building a fire and adding some blankets to the mattress there. You gripped the soft blue cotton of the other dress and walked over to your small closet. 

Dettlaff seemed nervous over the entire thing, as if his and your baby could bark at him if they didn’t like it. _Wait, he said he can feel the baby._ You slapped your forehead.

Okay. Maybe _now_ you were getting a little nervous. Were you calm for this? _Fuck_. You’d better be, damn it. You looked down at Dettlaff’s persuasion on your body... _Listen, we love you,_ you thought to them, _so please be happy about dad even if he’s a big… guy… sometimes..._

You patted your belly as if you two had had a productive chat. Then you opened the closet, tossed the blue dress in it and--you caught a glimpse of the yellow fabric that was the gown Regis had sewn you, your hand slowed. Your heart sank. You reached out and touched it, grazing it with your thumb, before closing the door.

It felt like someone was pushing an indent of their hand into your chest as if it were soft clay. It made it difficult to breathe correctly. Regis had apparently left shortly after Geralt went to talk to him. You looked out the window at the deep navy and dark purple sky, and a breeze rolled through. You shook your head, trying to refocus your energy to what mattered right now. 

And what mattered right now was sweet, sweet Dettlaff. Your body relaxed just thinking about him. Well, it relaxed in _some_ places. 

Were you calm for this? You thought about him in his bat form and felt your skin pucker. _Focus._ You thought of his energy in that form, then, and felt better. No, you _more_ than felt better. You melted in heat remembering how he felt to your mind and body the night you made him transform for you. You remember when it happened, what the air smelt like, what his skin felt like on yours, the moment you crawled onto his wing he gave you something that made you want to live in that place, wrapped up in his large, batlike embrace. You felt every ounce of what he felt for you and it was more than you could bear, nearly. You’d been in denial about it ever since, because it couldn’t be true. You couldn’t be that _good_ to somebody.

Your attention came back to the room when you realized that your cheeks were wet with tears, you wiped them away and looked down at your belly. _I can’t wait for you to meet him._ You could do this. You were a little nervous, but you could do this. He was so sweet. He deserved this. _Please love him,_ you thought to it, _I know you’ll love him_. You tried to calm your nerves. But another idea was creeping in the back of your mind, too. 

There was something else you’d remembered from that night, and it had been hard and erect _._ You tried to not think about it since, but you had. You really had. You were the mate of a Higher Vampire whose body was capable of becoming _massive_ and alien, nearly. He was _yours._ You swallowed. You were pretty certain that it wouldn’t even _work._

You were pretty certain that you weren’t exactly remembering how he _looked_ when he was in that form...it was a bit jarring _,_ to say the least. _But it’s Dettlaff._ Your heart ached. It _was_ Dettlaff. You felt a little tinge of excitement, again, and giggled.

“Oh god, no,” you giggled to yourself. “ _No_ , Maina.” 

You held your breath and closed your eyes, trying to expel the thoughts of _fucking him like that_ from your head when Geralt yelled up from downstairs. 

“Hey!” he barked sharply, “Your vam--hi Marlene, yeah right there is fine--umm, _Dettlaff_ is outside!” You heard a clang of armor in the living room. He was really going to need to get out of the habit of referring to Dettlaff as _your vampire_ with Marlene around. You quickly put on your boots as Geralt called up again, “And don’t forget that tomorrow morning we’re all meeting at the Pheasantry in Beauclair to discuss--no I’ll do that, it’s heavy--umm, discuss _stuff_.” 

_Discuss how we're going to find the book hidden in the palace,_ your brain finished for him. You grabbed your jacket off the chair back at your small round table and ran downstairs, smiling at Marlene, who was sorting through a mound of gauntlets.

“Good luck on that leshen tonight!” you yelled to Geralt as you closed the door to Corvo Bianco. 

Dettlaff’s large back was to you, the full moon lighting up his jacket and his dark, sleek hair. You could see his cheekbones and his jaw peek out and you felt a little jolt of excitement. You were in some sort of mood. He turned around and smiled at you.

Poorly. 

“Dettlaff, it’ll be great,” you told him, “I just _know_ it.” 

His chest was rising and falling, his teeth were visible and his face arranged tight in apprehension. You called that his _worry sneer_ , lately, which you’d only ever see him do when he had unease about his baby being afraid of him. You walked up to him and put a hand on his large, muscular face. 

“Honey,” you said, and he snapped back to the present. He thoroughly enjoyed it when you called him ‘honey’. Rubbing your belly in indication, you asked “Can you feel them now?”

He nodded his face in your palm, his steely blue eyes lit in the night, making contact with yours. It was easy to imagine that someone who didn’t know him would think he looked predatory right now, in the dark, with his unnaturally large jaw and his intimidating gaze. 

Your knees felt weak.

“And?” you prompted. His head slid out of your palm and upwards as he stood straight. 

“Of course our baby is fine, _now_ ,” Dettlaff’s deep, husky voice was _snarky_ , and you bit your lip. _It’s not funny,_ you told yourself. 

It really wasn’t, after all. If the baby was afraid of him even in the womb, possibly meaning that _you_ were afraid of him, too, it would not be a good time for him. Your face started to rearrange itself to match his, and you shook it to try to stay confident. 

“Well,” you smiled, “I had a talk with them and they’re _very_ excited,” you told him, and he rolled his eyes at you, but brought you in closer, and kissed you on the forehead. “They will love you no matter what, Dettlaff.” 

He stared down at you, his chest rising and falling more fluidly, now. You loved him so much. It looked like some of his worry had seeped away, and he brought his masculine face in near yours.

“I was wondering,” his low voice hit you like steam rolling up from a pot- it smelt both sweet and of danger at the same time, like perfumed bait, made to catch you, “if I could fly with you in my arms, after our child is born.” 

You shifted. You didn’t want to admit right now that you were terrified of heights. 

“Of course,” you replied, your voice betraying you by cracking, slightly. You saw his mouth open further in a toothy smile. 

“Mmmm _hm_ ,” he rumbled and you knew he was calling your bluff. He put his head down next to your ear, “I think you will find that you feel quite safe in my arms, flying.” He kissed your neck, “Ready?”

You nodded, taking his scent, the coolness of his touch, and you disappeared. 

-

When you came to, you were in the cave, and surprised to find that what you were sitting on was a full bed with a bedpost and a headboard...and it was covered in pillows. _Jeez,_ you thought, _there are more pillows here than in Geralt’s bedroom._ You removed your jacket and sprawled out, a light breeze flowing in from the cave’s opening that looked down over Beauclair ran across you. You considered the image of Dettlaff turning into smoke with an armful of pillows and giggled. How often did he intend to stay here? Was this entire comforting process part of some grander scheme to get you to stay more often? How many different places to sleep did vampires need? You felt like you hadn’t kept the same bed for more than a month since meeting the two of them. 

Footsteps informed you Dettlaff was approaching and, by the intervals and decibel of it, was still in his most human form.

You rubbed your belly as you stared up at the ceiling, a song you’d heard at the Beauclair market the first day Dettlaff held your hand was playing in your head, and you started humming along to yourself. A smile formed on your face as the footsteps grew louder. You sat up as another gentle billowing of air kissed your unclothed shoulder. 

“Well?” you asked him encouragingly.

He looked around the cave and started pacing. He wasn’t saying anything or looking at you. Finally, Dettlaff strutted over to you and took your face in his hands, planted a very firm kiss on your lips, and walked off out of sight to the back of the cave. 

You heard the first pop of his body transforming and flinched. It was going to take some time to get used to that. A shiver rolled down your spine and your breath caught. _Were_ you ready to experience this again? Really? You closed your eyes and reminded yourself to focus on reading his energy, to not get hung up on his body, his teeth, his claws... Another shiver rippled through you and you noticed that, despite how much you thought you knew yourself, perhaps you’d been forcibly forgetting how scary this had felt the first time. How scary it felt right now. You were fighting nature’s way of helping you _survive_ by telling yourself not to fear him, not to run. Chest expanding, you started counting out your breaths and put both of your hands on your baby bump. All and _any_ sexual thoughts from before had gone _out_ the window.

You breathed. You wanted to do this for him. You could be strong for him. He was your...your mate, and... _and maybe just focus on breathing_. In the dark of your eyelids you heard footsteps again, only this time, they were slow and creeping.

 _Thud._ The bed shook, and a pause, before another _thud._ You kept counting, the candlelight turning your eyelids a warm umber. 

A deeper voice greeted you, “ _Maina_ ,” 

You took a final deep breath and exhaled. For a moment you took in his energy, which was tepid, and nervous. _Afraid_. 

...He would do great. He _is_ doing great. Now all you had to do was allow him to continue that. 

You opened your eyes, and smiled up at him, his huge, menacing face stony and unreadable, _terrifying_.

But what you felt from him...you looked up at his eyeless gaze as the feeling began flooding into your body from your toes and fingertips, it was cold, and it felt as if someone was prickling you with a thousand different needles before it became hot and soothing. It rolled in from your extremities while the rest of you felt like you were floating, and warm. Then it cycled. It was as if you were on the permanent edge of a giggle. You felt like you _were_ giggling...giddy, but relaxed. It was the most complex feeling you ever had, but it was also a very, very good one, you thought. 

“I love you,” you told him without thinking. Just stating the truth. 

A smile split the Higher Vampires face at the jaw, and before you could shudder at the sight, heat rose in your chest from his energy and calmed you. You motioned to the bed, and he sat, putting the entire structure under stress and causing you to bounce slightly. Had his scent altered? It seemed more intense, and not in a bad way...you breathed in through your nose. 

Not in a bad way at all. 

A clawed hand was on the other side of you and, moving slowly and carefully, the large body pulled you up on his lap, so that you were facing him. Dettlaff’s temperature in this form was nearly _scalding_. Heat rippled off of him in waves. The chest in front of you heaved, and the forehead of a giant skull lightly kissed yours. 

You closed your eyes, again, and let yourself feel it. You felt guilty for being afraid before...you felt guilty that you were still a little afraid now. To your surprise, a tear rolled down your cheek. _Dettlaff_ , you thought, and swallowed dryly. The blunt end of a long claw, cool and smooth like riverstone, gently made contact with your face where the moisture had been. You heard something echo in his chest below you, and the sound traveled up his throat and escaped his mouth.

“I love you,” Dettlaff’s voice was massive and quiet, and choked. You were surprised that his breath was sweeter than ever, and intoxicating. It sent a feeling through you in a place you hadn’t expected, and you squeezed your thighs together to shut it up. You put your hands to his face and he melted by your touch. Your toes felt the vibration.

The leviathan who was holding you trembled ever so slightly. 

“Can you feel our baby?” you whispered to him, his forehead still on yours.

Dettlaff’s naked chest started to move up and down once more, higher and higher until it stilled. 

You waited.

“Yes,” Dettlaff whispered. His body stuttered, swallowing deeply as he wrapped you tighter in his arms.

He didn’t need to say anything else- his energy had spoken for him, and you felt more tears in your eyes as a curiously strong physical feeling overtook you. It felt like a drug. 

He was stroking your body with his claws, and you kissed his neck, deep purple and gray. His wings wrapped you both. You were so warm. 

-

You woke up the next day still in the cave, and found that you’d rolled yourself up in his wing, and were laying completely on his torso. Slowly, your body moved up towards the top of the cave as his chest expanded, before making your way back down with his exhale. A stream of warm breath hit your face, sweet and enticing, and for a moment you were so comfortable you thought you should just fall back asleep. 

Then his jaw moved, slightly. You realized without him having any visible eyes at the moment, that you couldn’t tell whether or not he’d just woken up. You giggled a little about that, before your body started to vibrate. 

“ _Mmmm_ ,” his mouth curved up in a too wide smile around several jagged fangs, and his head cocked at you. You felt the warm skin of his wing readjust itself to cover your shoulder, then your muscles tightened. You were being lifted up and before you could even protest, were set on the bed next to him. He got up and walked out of sight, coming back a few minutes later in his most human form. When he got to the bed, he pounced on you.

“Dettlaff!” he rolled you over onto his chest as much as your body would allow and his lips found yours. Eyes closing again, you felt his energy, less intense now, but very calm. Very happy. 

“Mi une am,” _I love you_ , he whispered in your ear. You could feel him hardening under your belly. “I’m more sensitive to you like this,” he said, kissing your neck, “and I feel like I _am_ awake now.” 

His voice was one of your favorite sounds, you decided right then. “ _How_ are you sensitive to me?” you asked, curious, and wanting to hear him talk more, “what is it like?”

He closed his eyes and sighed, “it is like a haven, Maina.”

You laughed and rolled over to the best of your ability, and pushed his handsome naked shoulder. His head popped towards you and he growled excitedly. 

_Fuck._ You _loved_ his joyful growls. It was so animalistic and pure. 

“That wasn’t a very good description,” you said, your voice becoming muffled under his muscular back as it rolled into you, him closing the distance you’d just created. You giggled into it, getting unintentionally high off his scent. You wrapped your arms around him the best you could with your bump between you. 

You felt a large hand grab your forearm as he wrapped it tighter around him. Had he ever been little spoon to you before? It certainly seemed like he was enjoying it. You heard his low, velvety _giggle_ rumble through his body. His dark hair tickled your nose and you saw a shrp, large cheekbone peek out from the left of it, then his angular jaw followed. 

Now _you_ were giggling. 

“Oh my,” you laughed into his back, kissing it. 

“ _Hmmm_ ,” he rumbled. “How I am sensitive to you…”

“ _Yes!_ ” you barked into the air with laughter. How _absurd_ your life had gotten...how absurd in the absolute, most beautiful way. 

He adjusted himself with a slight ass wiggle. _Fuck._ _That_ was nice. 

He was still enjoying himself, and he tightened your arm around him again. “Well,” he rumbled, throatily, “I sense when you are happy,” he started, “I can smell when you are afraid,” his voice got tense with that statement. He rolled around and put a large, muscular arm around you and it laid across your neck. 

“I can smell when you are aroused,” you tingled, “I can smell when you are most fertile,” you swallowed. “I can feel when you are kidding,” his eyebrows pulled together, “but that is hard to explain why or how.” 

He kissed you on the forehead, and you melted into his steely blue gaze. 

“That,” he kissed you again, “my darling,” and again, “is how I am sensitive to you, and I’ve waited all my life to feel it.” 

Just like that, you were wrapped up in his arms again, and you kissed his big deep jaw, so handsome and gruff, and his large neck, so muscular and unlike your own, and his lips, thinner, and purposed to hide his too sharp teeth. His brow softened and he closed his eyes during this. His lip trembled. You kissed his eye where a tear was forming in the duct. 

His hands squeezed around your hips. 

“We need to get to the Pheasantry,” you whispered in his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: A little illustration of a big ole, loving bat boy and his pregnant mate (not having sex). Mentions of sex.


	23. New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how to summarize this one without spoiling it. Don't skip this chapter, I guess is my advise?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW's at the end. Reminder that you're all the best.

It was hot under the sun as the two of you walked out onto the Pheasantry’s second story balcony. You spotted Geralt at a table in the back corner near the lake, finishing up a game of Gwent, and waved at him. He shooed along his opponent and made a “come hither” motion at you with his hand. You slapped your forehead at how playful he’d made it, stifling a giggle and shaking your head. 

Dettlaff growled, and it wasn’t one of his joyous ones. You wrapped your hand around his and he eased. He’d get used to Geralt, eventually. Hell, maybe Geralt would even warm up to Dettlaff and start acting friendly. 

“How did last night go?” you asked, curious about this leshen, and even more curious about how the decoction you brewed worked for him. He put his hands behind his head. 

“I have to go back out there after this,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, “that’s why we’re meeting _here_ instead of Corvo Bianco.”

You gave him a look as the two of you pulled out your chairs, Dettlaff taking the aisle seat directly across Geralt. “You mean we’re meeting here so you can _play Gwent_ before getting back to work.” 

He squinted his eyes and made a face. Then he looked at your Higher Vampire and...nodded. You felt yourself sit up a little straighter before Dettlaff nodded back. 

_Whoa._ A smile started to flirt with your mouth. _That went better than expected._

Dettlaff turned to look at you and kissed the base of your jaw. You felt your face color as Geralt raised both his eyebrows at you and made a show of _not_ looking in your direction, which made you giggle. You nuzzled Dettlaff back...because, well, you couldn’t help it. 

“The lake looks beautiful right now,” you squeaked, clearing your throat, wanting to change the subject budding in your mind, which was Dettlaff’s _ass_. 

“Uh, _yeah,_ ” Geralt said, smirking at you, “It looks damn beautiful _every day_ , Maina.”

Dettlaff squeezed your shoulder. Was he almost _smiling?_

“What should I get you?” he nodded a handsome chin at the counter in the back of the balcony. You squinted your eyes in the bright morning light, trying to see what was on it. You felt his gentle touch on your bump and grinned. He’d started absentmindedly feeling your belly, too. 

“I guess a blueberry sweet cake if they have any,” you decided, giving up on staring into the sun. Dettlaff stood, and you felt his lips plant on the top of your head before he walked towards the counter, by far taller than anyone else standing, and certainly the most foreboding. A spasm hit you in your baby bump, and you shifted uncomfortably.

You turned back around from watching Dettlaff and saw Geralt sitting with his arms folded over his chest, looking _very_ smug. 

“Well? Did you see _that_?” he asked, his face almost infuriating to look at. 

An audible sigh came out of you, “see _what?_ ”

He leaned forward in his seat, putting his elbows on the table and turning a palm towards the sky, “I made him _laugh_.” 

“You did _not_ ,” your expression must have been one of utter disbelief, because Geralt looked absolutely scandalized.

“I did _too_.” 

You shook your head at him, trying your best to not let your teeth escape your lips in a smile. “Well,” you rolled your eyes, “keep up the good work, then, I _guess_.” 

He leaned back in his chair and nodded triumphantly. You tensed... something had been prickling at the back of your neck, just then.

“Am I terribly late?” you heard a familiar voice ask. Geralt’s Adam's apple dipped ever so slightly. 

“It’s about time,” the witcher said, putting his hands behind his head, again, before Regis took the seat directly opposite of you. 

... _the table could have been bigger._

Regis’ eyes moved to you, and a knot formed in your stomach before he looked downwards. Geralt closed his eyes and when he opened them, they were _hugely_ wide and on the table. 

A large vampiric hand slid a blueberry sweet cake in front of you. “Regis,” Dettlaff said, content, “it is good to see you.”

Was there something in the way he had said ‘good’ just then? Keeping your face down, you eyed Regis, who blinked at him. An apprehensive smile formed on his face.

_Vampires._

Geralt slapped his hands together, again shattering the silence uncouthly. 

“Alright, _so_ ,” he began, putting a large piece of rolled parchment on the table before looking over both his shoulders. When he spoke next, his voice was lowered, “I’ve contacted Anna Henrietta’s people, and although we need to go through this complete ass hat named Damien, Regis should be able to see her.” 

He started unrolling the piece of parchment. 

“While I was there,” he took out an inkwell from his bag and placed it on the corner nearest himself as a paper weight, “I took a little stroll around the grounds,” his mouth was carrying his sense of pride, now. He put a stone for a paper weight on the corner across from you in front of Regis, “and found the room,” he moved your plate slightly onto your corner for that paper weight, “and it’s right...” he paused, digging in his pockets before Dettlaff let a heavy hand slap the table on _his_ corner of the parchment, still staring at the witcher. Geralt raised his brows before continuing on, he lifted a finger, regarding the parchment, which had turned out to be a map, “ _Here._ ”

His finger landed on a small square in the middle of a lonely spire in the heart of the palace grounds. It was nearly _in the courtyard._ The _royal_ courtyard. Where the _duchess_ and her _royal guard stood taking requests from the people on most days._ Geralt crossed his arms again, smiling. 

Regis looked at him, deadpanned, “You seem unreasonably optimistic given its location.”

You nodded to that, and Geralt frowned at the lot of you. “I _found_ it, didn’t I?”

Regis sighed, and Dettlaff’s large hand curled around yours. 

“I can get us in,” Dettlaff said, squeezing your hand and putting his nose next to your face. You were realizing that Dettlaff may have never gotten the lesson in public displays of affection as he kissed the side of your face. You blushed and looked down. 

“Well, good,” Geralt said, surprised at who he found his support from, before looking to Regis, “ _see?”_

Dettlaff's lips were still on your cheek. You looked up and saw Regis’ eyes quickly move from your face to the parchment. Your blush deepened. 

You put a hand on Dettlaff and he stilled _, finally,_ with a sigh. _PDA was going to be a needed conversation._

“So,” you started, “when is the meeting with the duchess?” God, that sounded insane. You took a bite of your blueberry sweet cake, finally. How did Regis even know the duchess? 

“In three days,” Geralt replied, and you nearly spat out your cake. 

“ _What?”_ you asked. Dettlaff’s hand on you tightened. 

“You do not need to go if you do not want to,” his deep voice rumbled, firmly.

“You _should_ , though,” Geralt added. “Yen thinks you might be able to sense the book’s magic, and we’re going to need to be in there pretty soon after Regs speaks to her in case Anna Henrietta gets paranoid and moves it. Of course,” he eyed Regis, “since the two of you are _such_ good friends, there’s always the hope that she might just _give_ the book to you.” 

“Watch yourself, _witcher_ .” Dettlaff looked at Geralt, all humour gone from his countenance. Geralt needed to practice a little more caution around your mate or he actually _was_ going to get killed, you thought. 

“We shall leave that up to Maina,” Regis interrupted, “of course.” He was looking at the map, his bottom lip pinched between his thumb and forefinger again as he concentrated. A long vampiric finger traced the place where Geralt had indicated on the parchment. “This used to be the nursery.” His eyebrows lifted slightly, before one drove downward in contemplation, “which is _quite_ curious. I’m interested to see what the two of you find in it.” He sighed, “other than this _book_ , that is.” 

“Uh, Regis,” Geralt said, looking at the map, “how do you know that was the nursery?”

The older vampire drew himself up, stretching, “well I’ve been acquainted with the reigning family for some time, now.” He closed his eyes and rested his chin in his palm, supported by his elbow propped up on the table. “Though I had to discontinue my visits for a good thirty five years while the duchess came into her own, else suspicions would be raised.” 

He sounded very bored. 

Geralt looked at him out of the corner of his eye, “ _Well_ ,” he said, lifting up his hands, “any useful information on the room for Maina and Dettlaff?”

“If memory serves correctly...” Regis began. You realized Dettlaff had his arm around you and was rubbing your baby bump again. It felt so soothing that for a second, you thought it had to be magic. Your heart skipped a beat and you looked up at him, momentarily brought into a daze by his steely blue eyes, curious as they observed the witcher and his friend. Then they shot to you, and suspended your gaze. If you could hear anything at all right now, you weren’t aware of it. His lids tensed, and his nostrils flared. You felt the hand that was on your middle slide over your fingers and squeeze them. You heard a faint rumble. 

You felt _very_ warm. When you realized you could hear again, noticed that the older vampire and Geralt were still talking. _Thank god._

“...but there’s no way of knowing if _that’s_ what Yennefer was eluding to, and it's pure extrapolation on my part,” Regis finished, a note of finality to his voice. Geralt shrugged. 

“I guess you're right. I’m just hoping we find it,” he looked at you, “that _you_ can sense it.” 

You gave him a sheepish smile. _Great_. You focused on Dettlaff’s hand on your belly, his energy rolling off him in waves, and stroked it. 

-

You didn’t get back to Corvo Bianco until later that afternoon, as Dettlaff wanted to take you to the arts district to show you a statue that had recently been erected in it. It was very sweet of him, you thought, seeing as he hated crowds. He’d been right to take you there, too...you _loved_ it. You left him sitting on the fainting couch in the living room, shirt unbuttoned and his skin dewy in the summer heat. He was sketching, and he unintentionally looked like a goddamn god the way he was lounging in the chair. 

You’d gotten up, deciding to get some fresh air and found yourself feeding Mers. Geralt was still dealing with the leshen and Regis had parted ways after the meeting adjourned. You sighed, wondering where he’d gone as the sun beat down on you in the full bloom of the afternoon. A thought had been bothering you. _Why did Yen think you would be able to sense this book?_ You wondered. _Was she going to still write me back?_ Your mouth worked itself over as you contemplated these things. You were walking back from the pasture where you’d turned out Mers when you felt it. 

A slight tremor in your lower abdomen. You froze, waiting. Another came... _that was too soon_ , you thought, and it was all you needed to feel before you started to panic. You opened your mouth to call his name but a billow of red and black smoke formed around you and he materialized immediately _._ Large vampiric hands wrapped around you and before you knew it, you were on Geralt’s bed. You looked up at Dettlaff. He’d been so quick to react... _sensitive,_ you thought. 

Then another convulsion rippled through you and you sucked in air, painfully. Dettlaff was gone, and when he returned, he had _tools_. You closed your eyes, not wanting to look at them. He held your hand, confidently. “Is Geralt going to be ohh-ka--” you started to ask, wanting to clarify whether or not you were actually about to deliver on his bed, but were cut off by the pain. 

Your dark haired Higher Vampire squeezed your hand and put his other on your cheek, “ _Yes.”_ Was all Dettlaff said as he stared into your eyes, the intensity of it _burning_ you. His voice was so confident and powerful that your body immediately felt better, and some of the pain simmered. You swallowed. _Ultimate mate_ rang somewhere in the back of your head. 

Another constriction made you lurch forward, propping yourself up on your elbows. Dettlaff popped a vial containing a pink liquid and, placing a gentle hand under your head, tilted it for you to drink. How was he so _calm?_ He was _so_ calm. He kissed you on the lips before he left the room, returning with a basin of water and placing it on Geralt’s desk. 

“ _Breathe,_ my darling,” he said, cleaning his hands. He turned his face towards you, his eyes filled with passion, “ _breathe_ , I will be there, soon.”

Just then you heard the door to Corvo Bianco swing open--hitting the wall with a _clang_ before Regis stormed into the room, saw you and walked to Dettlaff, starting to clean his hands. 

Dettlaff took one step back. He stared down at his blood brother for longer than you were comfortable with. The larger, darker vampire’s face was unreadable. 

“ _Regis,_ ” he said slowly, his body tense. 

“Please _,_ ” the older vampire replied, quietly, not looking at your mate, “not now.”

Dettlaff’s hand fell in the air and he walked over to you, his face not as confident as it had been...then his icy gray eyes met yours, and his face ignited in what you were certain was pride...and caring. He put his face down next to yours and kissed you like his life depended on it. 

His large vampiric hand wrapped around yours as he stared lovingly into your eyes. You shuddered from another bout of pain in your abdomen, and he squeezed your hand tightly. “ _Breathe_.” 

You breathed, not noticing your hand tightening around Dettlaff’s. You closed your eyes and just... _breathed._ There was a sharp pinch on your arm and you looked to see Regis injecting you with something and...you shook, fear starting to set in. 

Regis put a hand on your upper arm and lowered himself to your level, “this is going to knock you out for the birth,” his voice was calming, “it will allow your body to stay relaxed during labor, which will be necessary.” 

You thought you felt the lightest stroke of his thumb on your arm before he was back at the table grabbing something. Dettlaff stared after him for a moment, his brows puckering upwards in their middle. “Breathe, Maina,” he said, tightening his grip on your hand and turning to you. He lifted his brows a little more and smiled, so lovingly, “ _breathe_.” 

You smiled back. The energy flowing from him was a little chaotic and very excited. His image became blurry, and you lost consciousness. 

-

You woke up and saw Regis pulling out _another_ needle from your arm. Your middle felt weird, in that you couldn’t feel _anything_ there. You looked around frantically, for a moment, before your very large Higher vampire sat down next to you and kissed your face. You looked at him, hearing a door shut somewhere in the background. He smiled. 

Dettlaff van der Eretein was a father, and he looked it. His chest was so broad and full. He put his forehead to yours and then, looking down, handed you your baby. You checked- a baby boy. You looked up at Dettlaff, knowing that he had wanted a girl, but he was too busy cycling between being entranced by your child and entranced by you. Your entire body felt light as you looked down at your baby boy. 

He was beautiful, and tiny, and asleep. His tiny little fingers looked _just_ a little too long...and you beamed. Dettlaff barked a laugh and bit his lip, holding back tears, you thought. 

“Is he?” you began. 

“He is human and Nosferat,” Dettlaff’s voice cracked. 

Your baby made a high pitched little noise and your heart skipped. His tiny little cheeks were so pouty looking. His jaw looked a little on the bigger side, too. 

Dettlaff cleared his throat and you felt the tiniest bit of worry roll off of him. 

You looked down at those pouty little cheeks again, “he’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”

You felt Dettlaff's anxiety leave him, and saw a large, clawed hand lightly cradle your baby's head. 

Dettlaff swallowed, his voice working hard to be audible, “he has red hair, like yours.” 

You looked up at your mate and felt that you were seeing him clearly for the first time, as he sat next to you, biting his lip, eyes so soft looking down at his and your baby. 

“How do you feel, Maina?” he asked, two steely blue eyes looking up at you appraisingly. It was your turn to have his hand as he stroked your face, and you pushed your nose into his huge palm. 

“Tired,” you replied, truthfully. 

Dettlaff stood up and walked around the other side of the bed and laid down next to you, lightly pulling you up so that you would be in his arms and against his chest. You pushed your head up against his neck and jaw, and he rested his cheek on the top of your hair. 

“How are _you_ feeling, honey?” you asked. This was all probably very exhausting for him, too. 

“Mmmm,” you could hear his smile against your hair as he reached out his muscular arm to join yours holding your baby. “I feel like I love you _very_ much.” There was the smallest ounce of danger in that voice of his.

“I think I’m going to sleep, now,” you said, yawning. 

“I think you are, too.” he kissed the top of your head again, and all you could feel was him and his energy holding you, and your baby, and then finally, sleep. 

/\\_~.~_/\

Regis appeared back in the graveyard and started walking to the building. Halfway up the hill his gait wavered, and he grabbed a headstone. Nothing came out as he bent over, dry heaving. 

He let his hands slide down the stone as his knees hit the ground below him. The bridge of his nose against the earth; clumps of grass were being uprooted in his grip as his shoulders tried creeping to his ears. His body was tight--expanding and contracting. He thumbed the small yellow gemstone that he kept on a chain around his neck, under his shirt. His body quaked. “I miss you,” his voice was strained, muffled into the ground, “I miss you so much.”

The next thing he knew, he was staring at the drawer again. An hour passed, and he was pacing back and forth in front of it. His hand slid over the fine finished wood and, gripping the handle, slowly opened it. 

He stared forward, not looking into it, but closed his eyes. He wanted to shut it, again. To shut it out. To shut all of this out. His hand went to the yellow stone around his neck, yanking it off him, holding it over the drawer.

It dangled there on its chain, catching streaks of the light around the laboratory and reflecting it back out. Regis tightened his brow and brought it back to his chest. “I’m sorry,” his voice broke. 

The older vampire's body pushed the drawer closed as it slumped against the desk in the cold, dark room.

/\\_<l>_/\

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: descriptions of pregnancy, birth, remorse and despair.


	24. The Other Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dettlaff, Regis, and Maina carry out the first order of business for Yennefer's request by going to search for the book in the hidden room in the palace. 
> 
> Also, our bud Geralt loves babies. The softy.
> 
> Damien's chin is in this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay at home order was extended where I live today and the person I live with his high risk so I wrote a chapter that I desperately wanted to read...I'm just going to call myself responsible instead of desperately into this story. Life's weird right now, who knows!
> 
> Hope y'all are staying safe!!
> 
> Umm, there's some tang in this chapter, and there's only going to be more tanginess as this thing progresses, tell you that right now. But I will say that Dettlaff is literally only getting sweeter and I just love it.

Dettlaff could see all of Toussaint from where he stood, looking off in the distance at the two twin mountains along the Sansretour, then to Mt. Gorgon. His grip tightened on the elegant white stone spire as a breeze flapped through his long black leather frock coat. If there were any onlookers underway, they would probably think he was a giant bat, and would be closer to right than they would ever know. 

The large predator sighed, seemingly content. The air was cooler up here than on the ground, and he was known to enjoy _cool_ air to humid, though it hardly mattered to him. His large hand stroked his jaw, and squinted at the sun, letting out a grunt. His eyes scanning the landscape one more time, before they ventured to the courtyard below, visible between the flutterings of his jacket. 

His hawk-like eyes squinted, zoning in on the balding vampire hundreds of feet underneath his leather boots, speaking to the gowned woman and a rather handsomely chinned, bald guard. He’d seen his mate eyeing that guard earlier, but it was difficult to say with any certainty whether or not that had bothered him or aroused him. Higher Vampires were, after all, complex creatures, and Dettlaff van der Eretein one of the most complex of them all. 

Then, the dark haired man felt it, the other vampire had let out the lowest of vibrations, indicating it was time to move forward with their plan. The brooding man’s thin, dark lips opened and introduced a mouthful of razor sharp teeth to the sky. It was a terrifying display, and one that most humans would run from, but it was all he had to call his smile. He lifted a foot off of the spire, and as he took a step, flourished his coat, before disappearing altogether. 

-

The weird feeling in your lower abdomen was _finally_ starting to subside, but this sitting around on garden benches for hours was starting to agitate that area again. Regis said that your womb was healing quickly, from the swabs Dettlaff had given him, and that you would be able to be intimate soon enough. 

No one had _asked_ him about that, though. That being said, Dettlaff and yourself _had_ been wondering, constantly, about it, but neither of you seemed to want to ask Regis. Standing up stiffly from the white marble bench, you looked at the lavish greenhouse in front of you, considering whether or not you wanted to walk in there next on your fun _Waiting_ _Around_ tour of the palace gardens.

You looked up at the spire Dettlaff was perched atop and your heart jumped. You decided to walk the same trail up to the first landing and back down again. That loop was easy. Boring, and easy. You thought about Regis, again. The way he’d been looking at you lately...his words about rearing young with you. You were trying not to think about it. You were starting to get afraid of how you _felt_ about it. About those deep eyes as they watched your every move, how he always knew what to say, how you always could go to him for help, or an explanation. How he puckered his face to wordlessly indicate something was funny without giving either of you away. How he pinched that goddamn lower lip between his fingers whenever he was thinking. How he always made things better. Well, made things better for the most part. How he was probably in love with you… You shook your head. How he always made Dettlaff feel better… You lied to yourself about what your body was trying to communicate to you about this, swallowing.

Dettlaff knew, you thought. You thought that maybe he had known for a while, or at least had had a hunch, but after Regis had appeared at your bedside _minutes_ after your first contractions, Dettlaff’s attitude towards Regis had changed. He was... _worried_. That was the only way to describe it. It seemed like he’d been trying to speak with his older blood brother since the birth to talk to him about it, or offer some comfort, you thought, but Regis was evasive and flighty right now. Your heart sank thinking about it. 

You turned the corner on the path you were walking and considered the nearest marble bench. _One more_ , you thought and kept walking. The palace gardens were beautiful, and the air that hung around them was the most naturally perfumed you’d ever smelled. It seemed to you that you’d been really getting into the habit of noticing smells lately. 

...You’d blame that on your mutations. Or your vampire. Or your vampire friend. Or your witcher friend. Or your vampire baby. Your heart skipped. 

Dacreval was the name you’d chosen. Okay, pretending that you’d had _any_ say in the matter was a laughable joke at best. Dettlaff was so... _picky_ about it. He couldn’t make up his mind, and he hated nearly every suggestion you gave him. Every name you’d offered him was either too _this_ or too _that_. A smile was on your face and you didn’t even notice. Honestly, you’d thought the baby was just going to get called “baby” forever or, well, until it became not a baby anymore. He’d kept wanting to ask Regis his opinion on names, but you could tell he couldn’t get himself to do it. Pain prickled at the inside of your sternum, and you pushed through the garden, focusing on its flowers. 

So, finally, when _Geralt_ of all people suggested Dacreval, or Dacre, or Val as everyone had taken to calling him either instead of just his actual name, and Dettlaff _liked it,_ you couldn’t have been more relieved and more surprised. You thought maybe Geralt had suggested it as a _joke_ . _Especially since Dacreval is the most vampire ass sounding name in the..._ You noticed your smile, now, thinking about Geralt and how in denial he was about being baby crazy with your child. You thought him hiding it had something to do with his fear of being ripp… er, of Dettlaff, because he acted indifferent about Dacre whenever Dettlaff was around. He tried to be tame when even just _you_ were around, but you’d seen him. You’d seen him whenever you returned to a room after asking him to hold Dacre, before he became aware of your presence. One time you’d walked in on him asking your baby who the “good little vampire” was and you had to back out of the room and stifle your laughter for a good five minutes before _loudly_ reentering. It was a truth: Geralt loved babies. Which is why you were more than happy to have him watch yours while you and Dettlaff got this over with. 

You sighed, turning on your heel and walking right back down the hill from up you came. Purples, blues, yellows, oranges, you listed off the different colors of the flowers surrounding you. It was a little overkill, these gardens. A chuckle left your mouth, _Maina, Toussaint in general is a little overkill, isn’t it?_ If you would have believed a year ago that you’d be where you are now, doing what you are now, _with_ who you were with now… You shivered, not because what you had wasn’t good, because it was _beautiful_. You shivered at the thought of what if it never had happened. 

You sat at the bench that came just before the one you’d started on in this loop, and looked up at the spire, _Dettlaff was gone_ . You covered your brow with your hand, searching the sky and eventually caught sight of a smoke wisp billowing in the air above you. You stood, still looking up at it. _Yes,_ you thought, feeling him out, _he sees me_. You stepped back until you were standing in a nook of hedges. Smoke appeared around you, his energy calm and cool.

“Regis sent the signal for us to go ahead,” His words lingered in the air as his body stepped through them. He walked up to you and looked down at you, at least a head taller than you. 

“ _Great_ ,” your thoughts vocalized, flailing your arms. You hadn’t been hopeful, but at this news you realized how much you’d still been holding on to the thought of Anna Henrietta, Duchess of Toussaint, just _handing_ the powerful, possibly illusion-riddled book over to Regis. 

Dettlaff chuckled at you, and a long, vampiric finger stroked your jaw and pushed your face up to look at him, his eyebrows were raised, “is someone _nervous?_ ” 

You pulled your eyebrows in the opposite direction of his. He seemed to like it when you were nervous as long as he was there to protect you or help you through it, which annoyed you. 

“ _No_ ,” you replied stubbornly, and stupidly. His head rolled back and he barked into the air. 

“ _Yes,_ you _are_ ,” he stated, face full of glee. Then it got serious looking, “No harm will come to you, Maina.” 

His resurfacing smile _was_ awfully reassuring. So was the rest of his body. He looked down, his eyes full of you. 

“You are so much more powerful than you give yourself credit for,” he said over your head, pulling you in close to him, “may we proceed?”

You sighed. “Ye--”

The two of you were gone. 

-

Removing your face from Dettlaff’s black leather frock, you took your first look at the room. It looked like it hadn’t been touched in _years_. Dettlaff took a step back from you, dust rose from where his elbow had brushed the top of a high chair. He turned quickly, and silently at the touch of it, then coughed once. 

“ _Shhhh_ ,” you whispered to him, and he gave you the _sassiest_ look. You held in your giggle.

Scanning the room, you decided that Regis had certainly been right about the nursery bit. There was a rocking chair, a toy rocking _horse_ , large play pieces on the ground, shelves of books (you sighed at that part) and a few errant rattles strewn about. _Actually,_ you considered, _some of these look pretty nice…_ You stopped yourself. You weren’t here to steal. 

Well, no, yes you were, but not baby toys. Dettlaff walked up to a chest and opened it, sending another bout of dust into the air. Christ, _they could still have cleaned it_ , you thought. Then, you closed your eyes, and using your energy reached out for it. The sound of Dettlaff’s voice interrupted you.

“I wish I could…” the rest of it was muffled under the sound of him beginning to rummage through the chest.

“What?” you asked, trying to throw your voice over to him, quietly.

He whispered _louder_ , “ _I said I wish I could fuck you right_ here, _dear_.”

“ _What?_ ” you clarified over your giggle, surprised by him. He cleared his throat. 

“I _said,_ ”

“No, I _heard you_ ,” you whispered, “I just don’t know why you’re thinking about that right _now_.” 

It sounded like he was mocking the inflection of your voice just then under his breath. Who put a nickel in _him_ today? That pregnancy really _had_ been stressing him out, _sheesh_. You straightened yourself out, closing your eyes again, trying to focus on reaching out your energy. 

/\\_~.~_/\

It really seemed to the older vampire that this woman, whom he’d known, if from a distance, all her life, was telling him the truth. Regis was sitting in a chair on the high court in the top balcony of the palace, looking out over the countryside. 

He never did care much for palaces. Fine architecture, beautiful pieces of art...but the lack of appreciation generally shown for it by the residents always seemed to sour his mood. Which was actually part of the reason he _enjoyed_ the current reigning family of Toussaint. They loved their wine and they loved their art. They actually knew how to appreciate it. 

But, no matter how much you can share an interest in something, it doesn’t mean that a person in the relationship won’t safeguard something. The taste of wine soured in the vampire’s mouth, slightly. Which was why he still sent Dettlaff and Maina into the room searching for the book in case Ann Henrietta _wasn’t_ telling the truth about her giving it to this year’s predicted winner of the Knight’s Tourney. 

A breeze went through his hair and he smelt it, his expression indicating he liked whatever it was he had smelled. 

It was also suspicious, to this older vampire, that the Duchess should give away the book so closely after Artorius Vigo should go missing, though he masked his suspicion well. He nodded at her, then, sensing that she had come to a pivotal point in the story and that that pivotal point had called for acknowledgement, but he wasn’t really listening. His mind was elsewhere. Specifically, it was being given to someone else completely. 

Though he hadn’t felt this way in a very, very long time. 

He looked over and saw the beautiful Duchess perk her mouth up slightly, as if waiting for a response. When she saw that he hadn’t been listening, she motioned for Damien, a large guard, who Regis had always considered to be well minded and loyal, if not a bit hauty. He liked him well enough. Anna Henrietta seemed to like him well enough. He wondered if any of that had to do with his striking stature, the cut of his chin, or how he wore his armor so that it exposed his well groomed chest. Did it matter?

He didn’t think that it really did, in the end. Mirroring most things in life, he found. 

Damien stood up straight after the duchess finished speaking quietly in his ear. Then she turned her attention to Regis, “I _do_ hope you find that book.” 

The way she’d brought that back up alarmed the older vampire. The way she said _book_ alarmed him, too, but he tried to keep himself looking amicable and relaxed. Damien walked off the balcony. 

/\\_<l>_/\

_“Shit,_ ” you exhaled the word, getting exhausted. You weren’t having a difficult time concentrating, you knew that. You were _pretty_ certain that you were pushing your energy out into the room just fine. So why weren’t you coming up with anything? You were getting a little more anxious as time went on. The longer you were in this room, well. _At least it doesn’t seem like anyones been in it_ lately. 

You sat down, and Dettlaff pulled his eyes from the shelf of childrens’ books he was currently checking to look at you. 

“Are you okay?” he whispered, a touch of incredibly sweet concern on his face. 

“ _Yes,_ ” you said, huffy. “Except for that this is _stupid._ ”

He chuckled and went back to looking through the books. You thought you heard him whisper “mi une am” under his breath, and you rolled your eyes. 

“Are you sure Regis gave you the right signal?” you asked again. 

“I’m positive,” Dettlaff whispered back to you, slowly closing another book and replacing it on the bookshelf, shrugging, “unless of course he’s trying to kill me over you.” 

You stiffened, and so did Dettlaff after realizing that you’d been listening that closely through your agitation. 

The two of you stared at each other. It felt like you were both trying to figure out how much the other one knew about Regis’ current predicament, and how much the other of you might get angry for not sharing what they knew. 

You didn’t know why, but this was making you incredibly horny, and you shook your head, not knowing if it was the way Dettlaff was looking at you, or if it had anything to do with Regis’ desire itself. You shook that thought from your head. _Regis is your friend._

Was he? Had he been? _Yes._

But you found yourself getting… you shook your head again, not knowing _what_ you’d been feeling. A large black mass was in front of you, unseating pockets of dust as he made his way to you. He looked down at you. 

“How long have you known?” he asked. 

You thought about his week gathering ingredients for your medicine, and shrugged. “Not very long. You?”

“I’d been wondering for some time,” he said, “but now I am certain.” 

His head dropped onto your shoulder, and you were pretty certain Dettlaff was asking you to hold that part of him, to comfort him. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked. This was curious behavior of him, you thought. Suddenly an overwhelming feeling of guilt bubbled in your chest, and then, excitement. Then worry. 

Dettlaff sensed your consternation and lifted his head, looking down at you. How was he so beautiful? 

“Maina,” he put his arms around the small of your back and pushed his groin closer to you, looking down at you, “I know that you have been worried about this for some time, I can _sense_ you.”

You blushed, looking down. His long vampiric finger went under your chin and lifted your face up to see him again. 

“Dettlaff,” you began, your voice was shaking, and your eyes were getting wet...what did this mean? What would this mean?

“I know,” he said, looking down at you. 

_No,_ you thought, _you don’t._

“You don’t understand, Dettlaff,” you started, “I mean that _I_ -”

He put a finger over your mouth to shut you up, a grin formed on his face. A stupid grin. A stupidly large grin. 

A grin stupidly large and nearly mischievous. Or was it relief? 

“You are my Acern Ara, Maina,” he said, kissing you, “And Regis is my blood brother. When I found him, there was hardly anything left of him. I _remade_ him, with my own flesh and blood. He _is_ my flesh and blood, Maina.”

He looked down at you, and you realized that you were going to be okay. 

“Trust me when I say that I _know_ ,” he smiled at you and squeezed you. “I can sense how you feel, when you are around him.”

Your eyes widened. You didn’t want to hear or know more about that. You had no idea what this meant. 

“So this is just…” you started, looking at him. His eyes were so soft. “So, what?”

He looked down at you, waiting.

“I don’t know how I feel,” you said, digging your face into his chest. He kissed the top of your head. 

“I love you more than anything in the world, Maina,” he said in your hair, “do not forget that.”

It felt like he wanted something, though. That he had a preference. 

“You still haven’t told me why you didn’t say anything.” 

He blushed, and looked down. 

“I did not want to influence your decision, or…” he stopped. 

“...or?” you asked, your curiosity thoroughly piqued. 

His face scrunched up and he closed his eyes for a moment. 

“Regis is my blood brother, Maina.”

_Great, Dettlaff._

“Yeah, honey, I _know_ that.” What did that even really _mean?_

“So I can sense him,” he continued, and you realized that this was one of those conversations when Dettlaff actually just needed more time to process what he was going to say, and you slowed to let him. You nodded at him, encouragingly. His concentrated expression stopped for a moment as he realized what you had just done - his head cocked at you, and a smile turned up his mouth, astounded. He swallowed and his chest swelled in appreciation, and he bent over and kissed you. He kissed you tenderly and passionately before standing back up, eyes glistening. You smiled, feeling his energy soar like this. 

Then, you lifted your eyebrows, trying to tell him to _focus_ without being pushy. 

To your surprise, or maybe you weren’t so surprised by it anymore, he understood what those brows meant, and his expression went back to concentrating. He squinted his face, held the bridge of his nose, and said it. “He can sense you, Maina...” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, tensing, “what?”

He was walking back to the book shelf like he hadn’t said anything perturbing at all. 

“I said,” you said again, “ _what?”_

Then, both pacing, the two of you started talking at the same time.

“...I can’t forbid my blood brother from just-” he started.

“Like, _sense?_ How you explained to me in the cave-” 

“Bringing someone back from the brink with your own two hands and blood and then deny them any hope of-”

“With the _smelling_ , and the _fertile_ talk--”

“Finding an _ounce_ of reprieve form this barren wasteland of a world while I--”

“Been walking around this entire time getting _smelt_ and _sensed_ by someone whom I had _always--”_

“--continue to fall deeper and deeper in love with you.” 

You stopped, looking at him.

“You do?”

Dettlaff looked at you as if you were crazy, then pulled you to him, lifting you into the air and kissed you ferociously. He really felt like a vampire when he did things like this, and it made you crazy. He tore himself from your face, “Of _course_ I do.” 

He placed you back down on the ground and went back to his search. 

You crossed your arms. “I don’t even _like_ Regis,” you said. “Not in a…” you shivered.

He pulled out a book, “I never said you did.” 

_Yeah, you did._

“You _implied_ it, with all that ‘ _I can sense you_ ’ talk.”

He put a book back and looked at you. 

“I _can_ sense you, dear _._ ”

Your eyes narrowed at him, and he turned to the book shelf. 

“Do you remember asking me why I didn’t say anything?” 

Your eyes narrowed even _more_ at that. 

“Well,” he turned, “ _this_ is why.”

His eyes weren’t angry, or accusing, though. They were understanding. They were _so_ understanding. The closer he got to you, the more they filled with desire, too. He put a hand on your waist. 

“I will never tell you how you feel,” he said. “I just want you to know that I am confident in your love for me. _No matter how you feel_ , it is not _wrong_ . As long as you love me back, which I know you will always do, I am _happy_. I can thrive.” 

He smiled down at you, then his face went stony.

“Unless of course you fall in love with the witcher.” 

He turned back around and walked to the next bookshelf. 

You sighed. He’d looked _aroused_ for a moment. Did he…? This blood brother thing was a trip. You swallowed. 

/\\_~.~_/\

Regis had finally finished saying his goodbyes, and was walking down the stairs of the courtyard when he saw a billow of black and red smoke fly out of the spire where the search had been carried out. Then a raindrop hit him on the forehead, before others followed. The vampire smiled at the simple pleasure of standing in the rain. He was glad Dettlaff and Maina had left, and sighed in relief. The way Damien had looked at him would cause alarm for anyone... staging a break in in the palace grounds.

He walked past the white stone cylinder and shrugged when he saw Damien and his men were walking around it. It didn’t matter, now, though. There was no evidence that anyone who had been in that room was tied to him. He turned his face into the greying sky, and breathed it. 

His foot made it to the second step on the landing when he froze in his tracks, something was prickling the back of his neck. He sniffed the air, and turned his head back towards the spire. 

“Oh _dear_.” 

/\\_<l>_/\

You looked out the window and saw that the sun had surrendered its place in the sky, and that it had started to rain. Walking back to the middle of the huge room, you closed your eyes one last time and reached out. “Dettlaff,” you said. 

“Yes,” he replied, on the last bookshelf. 

“I think we’ve been here long enough and I don’t think we’re going to find anything.”

Dettlaff’s sigh was hardly resolved. 

“Would you like me to go check on Regis?” he asked. 

_If it gets us out of this room…_

“Yes,” you replied, “but if you cou--”

You stopped, realizing that Dettlaff had already left. 

Now you kind of wished you’d asked him for a kiss. You looked down at yourself, still getting used to your _lack_ of bump. You thought of Dacreval and his tiny little too long fingers and his slightly big jaw and his red hair and you just, floated. 

_You can do this, Maina._

You closed your eyes again and were just beginning to send out your energy when you heard something rattling the door. Your heart stopped, and you looked around you, trying to find a place to hide. The door rattled again and you pushed yourself underneath the piano in the back corner. _Perfect_ . You thought, looking at how far away the door was. _The worst hiding place._

Slowly you peaked your head out from underneath the instrument, looking for a way to the door and wanting to know who occupied it as it creaked open. 

_Shit._ It was that bald, big chinned, handsome faced _beefcake_ of a guard the Duchess had traipsing around her earlier. You dodged your head back under the piano. _Shit. Shit shit shit._ You looked back out and counted the men around him. 

_Why can’t my powers do anything cool._

You thought about your familiar. 

_Other than that_. 

Footsteps were slowly making their way through the room, and you started looking around for _anything_ that could help. That’s when you noticed a puffy cloud of smoke sliding along the corner of the ceiling and the wall. You exhaled, closing your eyes. 

_Thank god_. You thought. 

Then, Regis materialized next to you. 

“ _Regis!_ ” you whispered, he gave you an apologetic look, “what are you doing here?”

He put his hand over your mouth, rolling his eyes. 

“I know, I _know_ ,” he looked out beyond the piano, the guards taking their time at the other end of the nursery. _Thank god for all the hiding places,_ you thought to yourself, dryly. Then Regis' face got angry, “Where _is_ Dettlaff?” He asked, you noticed the smell of his hand.

Then realized that it seemed like he was actually getting pretty upset. 

His whisper intensified. 

“Did he not think his absence _might_ become a potential drawback in the event of you needing to _escape_ ,” he was _fuming_. You’d never seen him so angry. Well, he’d been pretty angry at Orianna that one time, too. You patted him on his hand. 

“Don’t be mad at him, Regis,” you said, thinking about how much Dettlaff loved him, “Besides he was looking for you anyway.” 

Regis stared at your hand and you removed it. The footsteps were getting closer and you realized what was going to have to happen. His anger made a little more sense, now.

“Regis,” you started, and he looked at you, sadly. His eyes were _so_ sad. You put your hand back on his, not caring. He hadn’t been the same to you since the _first_ time he moved you. “Regis I’ll be fine, don’t do this to yourself again.” 

He winced, pursing his lips together and closing his eyes for a moment. As the footsteps drew nearer, though, he opened them and offered you a slight smile. Then, he took you in his arms. You felt his breath on your neck and your own caught. For a moment, his smile actually _did_ touch those deep, endless eyes. 

Then the two of you were gone from the room. 

-

When you came to it had to have been nearly immediately after getting there, you gathered, as Geralt _leapt_ from his seat cradling Val in his arms, then _shhhhhshed_ him, bouncing slightly. He gave you a severe look, _mad_ that you could have woken him. 

Then his eyes got _huge_ as he realized that it was _Regis_ who was dropping his arms to his side. Regis' eyes closed, and his lips pursed. 

“Oh _no,_ ” Geralt said, sternly, cupping Dacre’s head, to shield his little ears, “No, no, no, _no_.”

He looked around, a little frantic. 

“ _Are you crazy Regis?_ ” You were surprised at how well informed Geralt was on Higher Vampire-Human transport, judging by his response. It warmed your heart, a little. But you also were getting _very_ annoyed. The white haired witcher whispered _loudly,_ “Dettlaff is going to _kill_ you!”

You put up your hands, partially to shield Regis from the heaping pile of _shame_ Geralt was trying to guilt him with. “He just _saved_ me from guards Geralt,” then you lowered your voice to a whisper, too, realizing you _also_ didn’t want little Dacreval awake and crying. There were one too many over-one-hundred-years-old males in your life right now, and you were starting to get pissed off, “...and no Dettlaff _isn’t_ going to kill him, he doesn’t _care_.” 

“ _What_ ?” Geralt yelled at you, before clearing his throat and patting your baby, bouncing up and down slightly. This _entire_ thing was getting absurd.

“Dettlaff knows about Regis and he _doesn’t care_ ,” you nearly yelled back, then froze. 

“What did you just say?” 

You squinted your eyes closed at the sound of his voice asking the question. When you realized that you couldn’t disappear magically into thin air, out of this situation, you opened an eye and saw Regis looking at you. 

He was pleading wordlessly. His head kept going to shake, slightly, then he’d stop it from happening. He’d squint, then stop squinting. He'd open his mouth then close it and lick his lips. 

He was going through emotions at the speed of light as he tried to figure out what this meant for him, you thought. How long did he think that you’d known how Dettlaff felt?

Regis turned around and walked out the door. 

You looked at Geralt desperately, but he had his eyes shut tight, his jaw tense. 

To your surprise, you turned on your heel and ran after Regis. 

“Regis!” you yelled at the air, searching it for something. “I didn’t know!” 

You kept yelling that into the air as if he was just lingering above you like a storm cloud. The rain that fell from the sky mocked you.

“I didn’t know until earlier today!” He was your friend and you just...you hadn’t lied to him you just hadn’t _known,_ that was all. You yelled it into the air again, hoping that he would show up. You walked along the path to the road. 

“Regis!” you shouted. Squinting in the rain. Your side hurt. _He_ probably felt so hurt. You spat at yourself. Tears were welling up in your eyes in your desperation. You didn’t know what to do. You wanted him to know that you were sorry and that you hadn’t kept this from him, you just… Your body jerked as you let out a sob. You tried to hold it. 

“Re _gis!_ ” You were crying into your hands and you didn’t even know why. You just wanted him to know that you cared. He wasn’t alone. You cared about him. You wanted him to know that you cared about him. 

Suddenly you heard the rumble of Dettlaff’s low voice as he scooped you up from the sopping wet ground, covered in mud. “ _Shhhhh,_ ” he whispered into your ear. _“Shhhhh,_ my Maina,” he held you close to him and stroked your head. You hiccuped sobs into his neck. “Oh Maina,” he said, his voice throaty, “I know.” 

He swallowed loudly, “I know, Maina.” 

You looked up at him and his eyes were strained, searching your face, concerned, trying to console you. You convulsed again, and he held you tighter, his eyes closed momentarily in a wince. “My darling,” his voice was low and wise, “you are so beautiful.” 

You looked at him, desperate, “I just want him to know that I care.” 

Dettlaff’s voice was shaky, “Me too.” 

You dug your face into his chest and he held you very close. 

“Me too,” he repeated in your hair. 

-

You woke up the next day in Dettlaff’s arms. His face worried and you could tell that he hadn’t slept, which may not mean much all the time, but you thought now…

The pain in your breasts was an indication that it was time for a release, and you realized that you were leaking a little. You blushed. Dettlaff’s nostril flared and he looked at you, arching a brow. 

“I think I might like that,” he said, and rolled over. He was obviously hurting, too. You didn’t know in which way he was, though. The sky outside was gray, and you walked over to the crib, looking at the tiny body within it. 

“Dettlaff,” you said, hearing the panic in your voice. 

The sound of his body rustling came _after_ he was at your side. 

The two of you looked down into the crib, where your baby had been was a tiny little bat. Dettlaff exhaled, putting an arm on your shoulder and placing his head on top of yours in relief. 

“ _Pfff,_ ” he sighed. “You had me _worried_ , Maina.” 

Your stance tightened, “What do you mean?! Look at our _baby!_ ”

He beamed, looking down at it, proudly. “I _know_ , I can’t believe he’s already able to transform.” 

You looked down at your little bat of a baby, and your heart swelled. He was right. You reached out and put your arm around your ecstatic Higher Vampire and pulled him close. Dettlaff's face was lit up in wonder as he looked down at him. You felt weak in the knees again. He looked at you, his smile beautiful and handsome. 

Then it faltered, and he put his arm around you as well, and picked you up slightly, holding you under your arse with one of his forearms so he could kiss the top of your forehead without looking down. 

You looked up at him and when his eyes met yours, they smiled. His energy relaxed. Then, a grin formed on his face. He looked _mischievous_ again. You watched him closely, something telling you that was what he wanted. His lips parted, and, looking into his eyes, you saw his mouth twitch out of the corner of them and heard a _click click_. He looked up out of the corner of his eye, playfully, and Dacre stirred, starting to squeak ever so slightly. 

Your eyes widened as you looked down at your baby, then back to Dettlaff. He winked at you. “I’m _very_ good with bats.” 

You rolled your eyes as he scooped up your child, who was tinier than ever, now, and had fallen fast asleep. Looking at his furry little body, you had to admit...the kid was pretty cute like this. 

_Of course he was_ , you thought, _he’s_ your _kid._

You felt his little neck with your finger, stroking him lightly. 

“In all honesty,” Dettlaff whispered, “I heard they’re much easier like this.” 

He set Dacreval back in his crib and looked at him a little while longer, tightening his arm under your butt in satisfaction, or happiness, or both, and turned around, walking with you in his arm back to the bed. He set his head on your shoulder. 

“I do not like being here without Regis,” he stated stiffly. It was the stiffest sounding statement he’d made since Val’s birth, and you’d been enjoying him in his more relaxed state, now that he wasn’t so worried about your being so pregnant. 

You put a hand on his face, “I think you should go talk to him,” you said, surprised at how sad _your_ voice sounded. 

He closed his eyes at the touch of your palm, his voice was creaky and still stiff, “I do not know where to find him.” 

You kissed his forehead, “but you can _look_.” 

He nodded, and set you down. He regarded you with so much reverence that you felt like every fear you’d ever had about yourself, about your inadequacy, was wrong. You felt like you were enough. 

He kissed you on your forehead, again, “thank you, Maina.” 

Then he put on his coat and walked down the stairs.


	25. yArt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dettlaff on a Spire!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lord almighty I am COOPED UP! That's probably not hard to discern with how often I'm updating this thing.  
> Oh! I think I'm just going to post the dang art and leave it in the whatever chapter it's in, cause sometimes they can be spoilers and I'm lazy. :O)
> 
> Have a good day y'all!! Stay safe! If any of you have gripes feel free to gripe away. I have no idea about what, but feel free to (someone's gripey today...and it's me lmao).


	26. Amilie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'When one is in regeneration, they are always conscious of this fact. Not even in near death, does the true higher vampire find reprieve.'
> 
> A little bit of Regis is explained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***CW's at the end, and there are some. If you have emotional trauma or are grieving then you should take a look in case this just isn't the time.***
> 
> You know what, maybe don't read it if you're a little sad, even. 
> 
> This is a quick chapter outside of the regular narrative voice. Dettlaff will be back post haste next chapter in all his glorious dadness. Dadness not sadness.

After a long night of intoxication one loses their ability to remember. Sometimes they wake in the morning excited to discuss the night before with their friends. Wondering what they had all gotten into long after their own ability to recall ceased. Then there are mornings when you _feel_ it before you even remember that you had been drinking in the first place. For humans, alcohol. For vampires, it was blood. It starts in the pit of your stomach, you see, the moment you wake, then it knocks on your throat, to check if you’re still listening, before it settles into your heart and eats you from the inside, _loudly_ . That’s how you know that it’s around. Shame. You _feel_ it nestle in your heart and eat at you. You can try to push it out as much as you like, but once it’s moved in and begins turning your insides, it gets comfortable. It doesn’t _want_ to leave; it wants to thrive. This leads you to the only way you can unearth it: address the root of it, and upturn it. Turns out, it’s the same as how one would unearth a turnip. The only difference is that it is much more painful to uproot one’s shame.

Regis had lived with this _particular_ shame for a little over one-hundred and fifty-six years-- ever since he’d woken up in the dirt that morning. _That_ morning. It had taken him 50 years to regenerate in total. Fifty years in the earth he laid waiting. Fifty years in the earth he agonized over whether or not he had done it. He couldn’t remember, but he knew. He always knew. In the pit of his stomach, which was in pieces somewhere below and to the side of him he felt it. Shame. The worst part was, no matter which it was - if he’d _done it,_ or if he _hadn’t_ , he’d never see her again. Fifty years was a long time for things as fragile and ephemeral as humans.

When one is not properly killed and is a vampire, one goes into a state of regeneration. When one is in regeneration, they are always conscious of this fact. Not even in near death does the True Higher Vampire find reprieve. So it was in the dirt, void of sunlight or the gentle touch of his Acern Ara that he began the stages of bereavement. Now, no one ever really has a choice as to _when_ they begin the stages of bereavement and thus, _where_ they begin the stages of bereavement. The circumstances that lead to bereavement are, after all, generally out of the person’s control. No one in their right mind elects for these circumstances to arise. So though Regis is not to blame for where or how he began his bereavement, it’s easy to observe that in the cold earth alone for the next half century, was not an ideal setting.

Bereavement is an uphill battle made much steeper when one cannot use their eyes to see, or ears to hear, or nose to smell-- or their neck to lay their head in their hands, or their knees and back to slump on the floor, or their courage to go and visit the departed a last time to help make sense of it all. To help say goodbye. It is not entirely ideal to go through this alone, either-- without a friend to tell them that it will get better, that they are not inherently bad or evil because of their actions, but that they simply set into motion the tragic events that occurred afterwards. Or at least, that is what Regis hoped had happened.

But he never heard these friendly words in his grief.

Instead, the words Regis had heard were that of his long dead and much older brother Sergas the Mula, who, despite Regis being completely unaware of it, had always been quite jealous of our balding vampire. Say it was because he had been the only child prior to Regis’ birth and missed the attention, say that it had been because Sergas killed their parents in a fit of rage one year and blamed their deaths on Regis himself, say _anything._ Regis had heard many times in his early life that he was _wrong._ Not in the sense that he’d done or said something incorrect. No, if that were the case, Regis’ attempts at Bereavement while buried in his resting place _could_ have been successful, but it wasn’t the case. Regis had been told that he was wrong at the _core_ of him. 

That he was too _mild_ for a vampire. 

Too _civilized_ for a vampire. 

Too _weak_ for a vampire. 

Now, the last should have alerted the young Regis to be suspicious of his older and morally inept brother Sergas, as all Higher Vampires are stronger than Mula, but it didn’t, because by the time Regis was fifteen years old, still a mere _child_ in terms of Higher Vampire development, he had become fully convinced: he was _wrong._

But Sergas had never been specific about _how_ he was evil, or how he was wrong, or how he was inherently bad and _this_ little fact is crucial.

Because _this_ little fact was a tool used to do harm. He never had an actual explanation to give Regis as to _why_ he was wrong. Tautologically he just _was_. This put Regis in a hard place without him having the advantage of knowing it. How can one improve when they do not know what is wrong about them? How can one find what is wrong about them when what is wrong about them doesn’t exist? 

They search for it. They search for it in places inside themselves where wrongness has never been. They begin to question their feelings, if they ever really had any. Any anger was because they were an evil being at heart. Any jealousy was because they were obviously useless. Happiness was probably due to someone else’s misfortune. They begin to misread their actions, giving them wanton phantom motivations that they’d never had. If they worked: were they a hard worker, or were they greedy? If they read: were they curious about the world, or were they an insufferable know-it-all? If he told a joke that didn’t catch: was he humorous and possibly more intelligent, or was he alien and _strange_ ? _Weak vampire._ If he accidentally caused the death of a loved one: did he ever love her, or was she just collateral damage? _You would have treated her better_ . No matter how hard Regis tried to shake it, Sergas had planted himself in his head and had become _the_ voice. The prickling of doubt. The one that mocked him when he became too bold, when he became too outgoing, when he became too _himself._ He’d felt that he’d gotten over that in recent years. Say, the past _sixty_ years of this four-hundred year old vampire’s life. It wouldn’t be surprising for one to feel very proud of him for this, as it gets more difficult to change with time. Not that many can understand what time means or does to a Higher Vampire...least of all the Higher Vampire. As much as one may be inclined to feel proud of Regis for his progression the past sixty or so years, this does nothing to help the way he felt or the way he thought one-hundred and fifty-seven years ago while grieving blind, alone, and buried. 

One can imagine the dismay he had, when finally his body _was_ able to dig itself out of that ground. Waiting for something to happen is one thing, but spending fifty years in solitude dreading it completely is another. Truth be told, it hadn’t taken Regis all fifty of those years to regenerate. It had taken him forty-nine years and _seven_ months to regenerate to the point where he would have been able to climb out of his grave. The last five months were spent much like anyone does the morning after drinking too much, doing something regrettable, not being able to remember it, and being eaten from the inside by their own shame. He put it off. Once able to rise, he chose to sit a little longer, because he did not want to have to finally face it. For some, they lay in bed another hour. For Regis, he laid five months with worms. 

The passing of time can do a lot to a person. Perhaps he shouldn't have gone directly after erecting himself from the earth. In the minutes Regis began walking towards the town where Amilie lived, though, he realized that the time he spent in the ground had vanished. The pain was fresh. It was current. It was because he hadn’t been able to grieve. He walked to her house and stupidly noticed that it wasn’t her house anymore. 

_Because she is dead_. 

He walked around the town and saw no familiar faces, save for one very old woman whom he thought he had seen as a younger face, once, but he could have been mistaken. He did not approach her. It wasn’t fear of being found out as the still-living blood sucker of old, that stilled him. It was for fear that his suspension of disbelief would be shattered, already, and he had been holding on to that slight hope, unbeknownst to himself, for the past forty-nine years, seven months, and one-hundred and fifty-two days. He just didn’t ask her. 

_Because she is dead._

He walked up and down the road staring at nothing in particular, his eyes most likely not focusing. Then, finally, after it had long turned dark and he wasn’t burdened by the familiar sights of places he’d once found his comfort in, with _her_ , he walked to the small field at the end of the last trail off of the village road and looked for her grave. 

He’d not noticed that it was cold when he was underground, but the vampire rubbed his arms with his large hands, _now_. The moon had come out and was shining down over the headstones, the gleam of it broken only by the small canopy of a single, thriving tree. Regis had not noticed the tree. Or the moon, or the way he was rubbing his arms. He was focused on the one headstone that was becoming larger and larger to him as he walked, now involuntarily, to it. 

_Amilie Seis Pritiese_ . He had always _loved_ her name. 

He _still_ loved her name. 

The vampire closed his eyes and tried to swallow, but his throat simply rubbed against itself. _Shame_. 

Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at the date of death on her grave. 

_Chomp_.

He could feel it, biting him, burning him. _Nibbling_ on him for sustenance. Shame was a parasite. His face contorted. He’d known, though, hadn’t he?

_You’d known, hadn’t you?_

Shouldn’t he have prepared himself?

_You never think ahead. You can never face your fears._

Why did this hurt so much?

 _A weak vampire, weak to a human_. 

He wanted to remember. He desperately wanted to remember how it had happened. He desperately wanted to know what he had done. He wanted an answer. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry. He began wailing it into the headstone, not touching it. He _couldn’t_ touch it, he’d thought. Then he did, and realized that doing so brought no more comfort to him. And it didn’t bring her back in his arms. 

_Because she is dead._

He wanted to hold her, he wanted to tell her that he would never drink human blood again and this time he really _would_ quit. Heaving on the ground, he yelled that into the earth below him, his airways becoming hoarse, his nose becoming unusable, he went to swallow and his throat rubbed against itself. _Shame_ . He smacked the dirt and his arms went limp, he went limp. He had nothing of her. Who could he ask about that night? Who had he to ask about that night? That old woman? He hadn’t even known _her._ He spoke Amilie’s name over and over and over and over and over again. Holding onto it. He couldn’t lose that. No one could take her name from him. That name could live with him forever. 

He couldn’t roll onto his back and face the sky. That would be too painful for him. The sky had answers, the sky had stars, and galaxies, and the promise of morning. The promise that the sun would rise again. The promise that time would keep moving further and further away from her touch. He clawed the dirt instinctually then stopped _immediately_ , sobbing. He wished he were back in his grave. 

When he finally got up to leave, knowing that he would have to, now. That he would have to learn to grieve or perish, he saw something flicker in the grass. His heart stopped, it was small, and yellow, and familiar. It was Amilie’s necklace. He bent over and picked it up, placing it around his neck romantically. 

It wasn’t romantic feeling to him, though. It was supposed to be comforting, but it wasn’t, he realized. It wasn’t Amilie. 

_Because she is dead._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW's: talk of grief, bereavement, being buried under ground, causing the death of a loved one, talk of gas lighting, trying to move on, and denial.


	27. Dettlaff van der Eretein & Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to the tourney grounds to find this book, and Maina realizes that she is mad at Regis over him making Dettlaff feel so worried. Dettlaff, however, seems curiously upbeat about his mate spending time alone with his blood brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW's: Anger and a few smooches.
> 
> Open your heart to the fluff and the smut.

You were really upset with Regis, you thought to yourself, as you, Dettlaff, and Geralt were just reaching the road to the tourney grounds. What he’d been putting Dettlaff through was starting to turn your vision red. That could have also been due to the fact that It was incredibly bright outside, and walking directly into the mid afternoon sun probably wasn’t helping that, either. You wanted to see these damn tourney grounds everyone in Toussaint had been on about this past week, but the sun was obscuring your vision too much to bother, and you settled for looking at your feet, instead. Regis had relayed to Geralt that the book had been given to the projected tourney champion, a man named Guillaume, so the lot of you decided that you’d rent a tent or two at the grounds instead of travel back and forth to Corvo Bianco as you searched for it. You didn’t want to have to travel back and forth with Dacreval, so you were absolutely okay with this. 

Dettlaff was in a better mood, now that he’d learned Regis was going to meet you at the grounds and stay with you. He’d been in a bit of a funk, to say the least, since his blood brother had left the two of you at Corvo Bianco last week. Dettlaff had tried again and again to find him, and it was just beginning to break your heart to the point of wanting to _kill_ Regis over it when Dettlaff finally _did_ find him. From what you could gather by Dettlaff’s mood, it had been a good conversation, but he wasn’t really talking to you about it. 

Which was annoying. 

Just then the sun stopped hitting you in the face, and you looked up to see the hill you were cresting was sporting a very large wooden arena, quickly towering over you. There was dust everywhere as the tournament holders tried to get the rest of what needed to be in order together before the first day, tomorrow. Dacreval flew up to you and landed on your shoulder. _About time_ , you thought. You went and put a finger under his chin. He was so _cute_ , but you were sick of breast feeding him as a little _bat_ . Not because there was anything wrong with him being in his bat form, you reminded yourself, but because his jagged little teeth hurt a bit on your nipples when you did. Still, Dettlaff had been right: they were _easier_ as bats at this stage. In his bat form he could already fly, and walk around, and he had taken to chirping. You tried to focus on these positives, but you were a little concerned for his development. 

If he stayed like this for too long too early, would that influence who he became in his human form? Dettlaff had assured you that it wouldn’t, as they are exactly the same vampires no matter what form they take, and that soothed you. You just liked seeing something that resembled _you,_ too. You missed his little red hairs on his head. You hadn’t seen them since _yesterday_. 

Being more physically capable, and having slightly better senses in his bat form, though, did let him show you a little more of his personality, for the time being. Which was just...you teared up. It was just beautiful. You looked at your tiny bat baby. _Little miracle,_ you thought to him _._ You would have to look up how to say _miracle_ in vampiric. A part of you was hoping that Regis would somehow be able to still give you lessons. You missed learning it. You missed him teaching it to you. _Well,_ you thought, _you’ll be able to ask him soon enough,_ and felt the smallest sensation of excitement where you hadn’t intended for it to be. You cleared your throat. Dettlaff was looking at you, now. Probably sensing your excitement. His nostrils flared, and his head cocked at you. Then he looked ahead at the fast approaching arena, and grinned. 

_What was he up to?_ You wondered right as your boot snuck under a root and you started to fall. Geralt caught you and straightened you. 

“ _Nice_ ,” he said, smirking at you. Then his eyes wandered to Val and got all squinty. He started mumbling incoherently and Dacreval squeaked back at him. You wanted to give him shit for it, but...it was so heartwarming you couldn’t. Even _Dettlaff_ couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it. 

You looked to your mate and saw him staring at three of you, a smile on his face and his chest puffed out. His energy was flying. God, you loved him. You loved him more with every waking minute of the day. The sun was getting lower in the sky and the three of you turned to walk past the guards towards the tents. It seemed to you that the groundskeepers were just putting the finishing touches on their work around the campground and festival area, and it felt a lot less chaotic the further you walked away from the arena, which made you happy. You noticed that the campground was really more just a continuation of smithy’s, bars, armorers, and gift shops with tents dispersed throughout. 

Geralt had already put your tents up earlier that day. He’d wanted to make sure everything was ready and that you weren’t standing around with Dacre out in the open for too long once you arrived. He led the way to your tent and you smiled, thinking about how much he cared.

The rest of the attendees hadn’t fully arrived yet...that would be tomorrow, and the majority of the people who were already here seemed to be knights actually participating in the tournament themselves. Geralt had wanted to get here before the crowd and have you feel out for the book, then, once it was located, wait for the chaos of the festivities before making a move to steal it. 

That was a pretty good plan, you thought. No matter how goofy Geralt was, he always managed to surprise you when it got down to business. He led you up a small hill and next to the lake, where your tent was located. You gaped. 

It was massive, and made out of fine canvas. You looked at Dettlaff, who simply smiled back at you, before he started looking around. _Regis,_ you thought. You went and grabbed his small bag with his sketchbook, kissed him, and went inside, leaving him to sniff at the air and search the sky. 

Inside the tent had a handsome rug and...you felt your heart sink. One double bed. _Just one?_ You hadn’t known what you were expecting...but, maybe a part of you had been hoping that Regis would be forced to spend time with the two of you. For Dettlaff’s sake. _Right_. You dropped your bags and sat on the cot, breathing. You could hear the sailboats on the lake and the splashing of children playing in the water. It was pretty peaceful in here, you thought. Then Val started hopping around and your chest, and you looked down at him, dumbfounded in the amount of love you had for this little creature, for yours and Dettlaff’s little creature. You wanted to cry. Then he began chirping up and down your arm.

 _Oh_. Right. You unbuttoned your shirt so that you could start feeding him.

“Hold on,” you said, acknowledging his growing impatience, not being able to help your smile. “You _know_ , this would feel better if you didn't have tiny little fangs.” 

Your little bat looked up at you and trilled. 

“Mmmmhm,” you said, scooping him up, “that’s what I thought.” He jumped under the fabric and latched on instinctively. _Ow._

Then the back of your neck started to tingle, and you stiffened. _Regis_ . A part of you didn’t think he’d actually show up. You started sitting up when a thought occurred to you; you palmed the back of your neck. _How long have I been able to feel that?_

Cupping Dacre under your shirt, trying to dissuade him from just hanging from you with his little claws, you stepped outside the tent. 

“She’ll have to wait until she’s finished breast feeding,” You heard Regis’ voice trail off as he caught sight of you, and swallowed. His hand dropped an inch or two and the vial he held in it made contact with Dettlaff’s open palm. Dettlaff looked down at it. 

Regis was still staring at you, his eyes flickered to your blouse.

“Um,” you started. You had wanted to give him a hug, just then, despite the fact that he's been a complete _ass_ , but now you weren’t sure if you should with Dacre eating and you’d kind of been leaking lately so you’d probably die of embarrassment if some actually got on his shirt and… you sighed, audibly. You were just staring at the ground. You looked up and saw Dettlaff giving you the same encouraging eyebrows you’d given him the other day in the room at the palace. Your heart fluttered. 

You looked at the two of them and remembered what it was Regis had been talking about. “Wait for what until I’m done breastfeeding?” You looked down at your body and your baby, eating, “he actually should be done in a few minutes.”

“I will go give this to the witcher,” Dettlaff announced into the air - seemingly at no one in particular, before moving to you and kissing you on the forehead. Then he walked off in the direction of the bar, where Gwent was being played. _What was he up to?_

Regis was still looking at you. 

“ _Hello_ , Regis,” you said to him, and it looked like he had snapped out of a daze. 

His eyes looked different now than they had last week. They looked like he was trying to apologize to you with them. You wished Dacre would finish being attached to your nipple. You were pretty certain the last thing Mr. Longing to Make Babies with You needed was to see you feeding one with your full _breasts_. You shifted uncomfortably, and so did he. 

“What was in that vial?” you asked him, not looking at his face. You didn’t want to start sympathizing. You were _angry_.

“Geralt had given me a recipe,” he said, looking at the lake, now lit up in yellows and reds and oranges from the sunset, then into the distance, “sent from Yennefer. I noticed that it was a form of birth control, and I don’t trust that it would be safe for you to take while…” he paused, inhaling, “right now.” 

You felt your eyebrows pull down from his last sentence, not caring about Yen or what she wanted at the moment. That was kind of him. To care. To still care. 

But you were still _very_ mad at him. Thinking about Dettlaff’s unrest this past week had you _fuming_ . _God_. 

“You don’t have to speak to me if you don’t want to, Maina,” he said, looking back at the lake. “I would completely understand.” 

OH _right._ The _sensing. Great._

You turned around and stormed back into your tent. 

-

“You’re pacing, darling,” the large dark haired vampire observed from where his naked, alabaster body sprawled about the cot, nearly burying it entirely underneath him. 

“I _know_ I’m pacing,” you snapped at him, and saw him cover his wicked, toothy smile with a pillow. He was so _calm_ about all of this, now. It’s like he’d forgotten that a few days ago he’d been inundated with worry about his blood brother because that blood brother had just up and left him. You stopped, looking at him snuggling around on the bed like a damn _lion_. 

“How can you not be _mad_ at him right now?” you asked, tossing your arms up to the side of you. The fucking _nerve_ . It was _fine_ if it was just _you_ Regis was being weird to, but hurting Dettlaff was out of bounds. 

Only now Dettlaff didn’t look hurt. 

_So? You can still be angry at him._

“Maina,” Dettlaff said, lazily, you thought maybe even hiding a kind smile, “he didn’t do anything _wrong_.” 

Dettlaff picked up Dacreval for the umpteenth time, and tossed him gently into the air, eyes going wide with glee at his baby as he started to fly.

“Didn’t do anything wrong?” you asked incredulously, Dettlaff rolled over and put a finger to Dacreval’s upturned belly on the cot, tickling it. Whispering _mi une am, am, am_ to him. You continued on, “Let’s see, he didn’t tell you _where he was going_ , _how long_ he was going to be gone. Dettlaff, you were beside yourself. You _hated_ it. You were desperate.”

Dettlaff was now rolling onto his back, holding Dacre in his large arms as he started transforming back into a human, his deep, resonate whisper now carrying the words _I love, love, love you_ in them. He rumbled, cheerfully, looking at the sight of his baby’s red hair. He kissed him on the cheek and set him back down on his abdomen. Then his face got slightly serious as he turned his attention towards you. 

His eyebrows went up in the middle. It looked an _awful_ lot like _sympathy._ Your eyelids constricted, and to that, he tilted his head and gave you a knowing smile. 

“ _What_?” you asked. 

“Maybe,” he began, and you restrained yourself from interrupting him, “it is possible that some of these feelings of worry for Regis were your own.” 

He looked at you, his face telling you that this seemed obvious. 

“I think maybe you’re misremembering,” you said, folding your arms. 

“I could be,” he considered, and you were surprised that he actually _was_ considering his memories. _Fuck, I love him_. He scratched at his handsome jaw before looking at you, “but I’m not.”

“So we’re finally able to talk about this, then?” you asked him. 

He barked out a laugh, and set Dacre in his crib before his large, muscular body bent slightly and picked you up. “I do not think you want to hear my opinion.”

You looked at him. You were pretty certain you agreed. 

“Do you know what it is I think?” he asked you, his voice carrying the sweet scent of his breath, it hit your face and overwhelmed you momentarily. 

“Hmm?” you asked, his steely, icy blue eyes piercing you, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. You wanted him so badly, in every way. You looked at his jaw. _Oh god_. He leaned in and whispered.

“I think you _care_ ,” he said, then kissed you on your cheek and set you down. 

_Hmmmph._

-

 _Birds_ , you thought, and pushed further. It was swelling, moving like the tide, _horse._ You kept walking, eyes closed... _no idea what that was,_ you thought, as an energy that was obviously animal skipped through your body as you crossed the trail. This was going about as well as you’d thought it would. 

_Find a book._ What in the hell was Yennefer playing at? You already felt...well, _knew_ you were a disappointment to her, she didn’t need to rub your nose in _your own lack of magical ability._ You huffed. Maybe this was punishment for pairing up with a Higher Vampire...who knew. ‘ _Prince of darkness’_ her words resonated in your skull... _what a joke_.

You had to admit, though, that your mutations were certainly helping you feel energies. Sighing, you took a break and sat down on a chair in the yard of the barber's cart, closed for the night, and rubbed your temples with your fingers. This was _exhausting_. Just then, footsteps alerted you to the approach of, you smelt the air, Geralt. You turned your head around at him.

“Hey.” 

“Hey,” he replied, the reflective quality of his cat-like eyes piercing the darkness. You wondered if your eyes did that now, too. They probably _did_ . You shivered at your own devil-may-care physical qualities, ultimately feeling _very_ cool about it. Geralt brought up a chair and sat down next to you, observing the drunk knights across the way at the open air bar. The bards were playing worse and worse as the night matured and a gleeman in an overly patched cape was doing petty tricks for coin. Looking over, you saw that Geralt wasn't taking as much pleasure in the sight of it all as you were. _Probably over exposure,_ you thought. 

“Got sick of watching Dacre?” you asked. The last time you saw him, he was changing his diaper, _complaining_ about it as if it were _his_ job in the first place. 

Geralt looked at you out of the side of his eye and cleared his throat, “He’s tired and cranky, so I stuck him with Regis and Dettlaff.” 

You started to laugh, “Tired and cranky, so you shirked him off? He’s a _baby,_ Geralt.” Who talked about a baby like that? You were still chuckling when the rest of what he said registered. “Dettlaff and Regis are spending time together?”

Geralt looked at you and made a tsk, tsk noise. _What?!_

“ _What?_ I can ask after my own, you know,” you reminded him, haughty. 

Geralt rolled his eyes and opted to lay on the ground instead of sit on the chair, sliding out of it and spilling into the grass. After putting his arms behind his head like he always did, he cleared his throat, “Your own _indeed_.” 

Your body deflated. _What the fuck was everyone so_ in _on?_ It was starting to get on your nerves. “Would you mind explaining to me what you mean by that?”

“Well, Dettlaff and Regis are blood brothers, and you’re Dettlaff’s ara carbara or whatever, so _I don’t know, Maina._ You tell _me.”_ He looked up at the stars and took what sounded like a very nice, deep breath. _So relaxed. Well,_ good _for_ him _._

“I feel like I don’t know what’s going on, anymore,” you said, blankly. Looking down at your hands. You wanted to find this book. You wanted to prove to yourself that you could use your abilities to _do_ this thing. You wanted Regis to cut his shit and just be himself again. 

Geralt was looking at you with another infuriating expression on his face. 

“I _told_ you that there’s a lot about Higher Vampires that you didn’t know. You remember that, right? I told you like, right over there.” He pointed in general _North_ towards Fox Hollow. You rolled your eyes. _Fuck_. 

“Yeah, well,” you said, letting your hands rub your face in agitation. Did you have dirt on your skin? Or were you just going insane? “I don’t have any regrets, or anything, so, don’t get too full of yourself.” 

A beat. 

“Actually,” you started up again, contemplating, “do _you_ have any idea what’s going on with them?” 

Geralt rolled over and looked at you, “I mean, they _are_ two fully grown live-in vampires, if that’s what you’re asking.”

That hadn’t been what you were asking. 

Your face must have been one of distraught, because you felt a calloused hand grip your forearm and pull you down off your chair.

“Ah,” _sheesh_ _,_ “Fuck, Geralt, _stop.”_

You were stiff arming his face as he literally gave you a noogie. He couldn’t hear you over his own laughter. Finally he let you go, and you shook your head. _God, just. God damn it._

“Hah,” he belted, “forgot that I could _do_ that, didn’t you?”

You really hadn’t. 

“Kinda glad you’re not pregnant anymore. Treating you like a porcelain _vase_ was starting to bug me.” 

“I’m pretty sure you’re glad I’m not pregnant anymore so you can bogart my _son_ .” You said, giving him a smirk. He stiffened. _Wow,_ you thought, _he really is sensitive about this baby stuff._

You remembered for the first time since you had had Dacreval that Geralt was _infertile._ You wanted to smack yourself in the forehead but didn’t for fear of giving yourself away. You put a hand on his shoulder. 

“You’re my best friend,” you squeezed it, “are you open for the position of godfather?”

“Well,” he said, as if contemplating it, he got up slowly, and you saw his eyes teeming with life as he did so, “I _suppose_.” 

He reached out a hand and pulled you up onto your feet. “I don’t think I can sense this stupid thing,” you said, worried as you walked by the first rows of tents in the brisk night air. 

“Eh,” he said, patting you on the back, “it’ll be alright.”

You frowned, and he tugged you in and squeezed you by the shoulder. You chuckled, but didn’t really feel any better. Passing your tent, it looked like Dettlaff wasn’t there, so the two of you continued on to Geralts. 

“Yeah, but I thought we needed to try to find it _tonight_ ,” you were starting to get worried that this entire thing wouldn’t pan out because of your own _inability,_ and that was causing you to panic. 

“We’ll make it work no matter what, Maina,” he said, the two of you rounding to a hilltop on the grassy plain on the northeast side of the tourney grounds, “I’m really good at digging around in people’s shit.” 

You laughed with him about that, and he pulled open the canvas door to his slightly larger red canvas tent and you entered.

Dettlaff was lounging on Regis’ cot, clothed and looking beautiful as ever, beaming at you...his energy ebbing and flowing like a great tide, and Regis was on the edge of the bed sitting cross legged by his knees. You started to feel that prickling of heat form in you and Dettlaff stiffened. Then you realized what Regis was so absorbed in. Cradled in his arms was Dacre’s tiny, sleeping human body. He’d fallen asleep with his tiny too-long fingers on Regis’ face, who was regarding him like the goddamn little miracle he _was_ . A part of you wanted to rip him out of his hands. A really, really, _really_ petty part of you, you thought. 

A really, truly, shitty part of you. 

Maybe a part of you that you didn’t want to be a part of you. 

Finally Regis looked up and saw you standing there, noticing you for the first time, and you saw his Adam’s apple dip. He stood, and cleared his throat, and walked over to you, handing you your baby. His eyes had gone from the happiest you had seen in such a long time, to just...You closed your eyes and breathed. You felt moisture building in your eyes and you opened your mouth to tell him that it was fine, but you were so mad at him. 

So you took your baby and walked out of the tent.

-

The next day you rose feeling pretty similar to how you felt last night. You’d brushed your hair, which was getting longer all the time, _that’s what hair does, Maina_ , and thought that maybe you’d actually go visit that barber stand for service today. You’d brushed your teeth, you’d gotten dressed, you’d reached out and said He _llo_ to the local wildlife seven times trying to find that ridiculous _book._ But you felt off. You felt like you were just on the _verge_ . You felt like you were ready to explode. There was a _lot_ of energy pent up in you right now. And it was stupid fucking _beautiful_ outside and that meant that it was _hot_ and…

You looked over and saw Dettlaff on the cot, Dacreval was nestled in his hair and yawning, which was good, since you’d just finished feeding him for what felt like two hours. _You’re perfect, though_ , you reassured him in your mind. You sat there in the chair, tying up your boots, and just...appreciate your lover for a moment. Eventually he started to rustle awake. He rubbed his eyes and smiled at you, taking your baby out of his mess of black and gray hair and setting him on the pillow where he’d been laying. Your heart could explode. He sat with his legs open and his...genitals exposed to the world. You looked at them, not sure if you were able to _fuck_ him yet. 

“Your balls are kind of really big,” you said, surprised at yourself. You liked them, though. 

To your surprise, Dettlaff looked a little self conscious by the remark, and his movements slowed. “So?” 

You started to smile at him playfully, but he continued with a sigh, “Apparently males with larger testicles are worse fathers.”

You looked at him, beginning to laugh, he laughed too, but then included, "There was a study on it before you were born, dear."

You raised your eyebrows, “Well _that_ sounds subjective, doesn’t it? How did they measure better or worse parenting?”

 _How did they measure the balls?_ You were struggling to not giggle. 

He shrugged, so you asked, “Who gave you the article?"

You really weren’t certain why you did because you were beyond 100% positive that it had been Re-

“Regis,” he replied. 

_Mmmmhm._

“He’s probably just jealous,” you said. Dettlaff looked at you. 

“Not by that much...” He trailed off.

You were just going to forget _that_ one. 

You took his head in your hands, and turned his face up to you, “Dettlaff, you are a sensitive, beautiful, caring intelligent, funny, and insightful vampire,” he blushed, “and you are the best father in the world, and you will continue to be the best father in the world.” You started to laugh, “...no matter how big and beautiful those nuts of yours are.” 

The two of you stepped outside and saw that Geralt was already waiting for you. “Good to go?” he asked. 

You squinted into the sun, and to your surprise, Geralt handed you a pair of round sunglasses. “Take these,” he said, patting your back and going to step into the tent. 

“Has he eaten?” he asked. 

You nodded, smiling as he disappeared behind the white canvas door. Turning back around, you saw that Dettlaff was holding back a smirk, too. 

Dettlaff trailed you ever so slightly through the tourney grounds, which is kind of just how he _walked_ when he was told he couldn’t be holding you in his arms. He placed both his hands on your lower waist and helped guide you through the crowd as you closed your eyes and searched for the energy. Which was great, because people just sort of _moved out of the way_ when Dettlaff was walking towards them. The two of you searched for it all day. 

-

You sat on the ground listening to the stupid trumpets sound as they began introducing the knights. Guillaume was the only name you cared about hearing. The predicted tourney champion. You had it all figured out. You’d find him, follow him to his tent, get this god forsaken book and be done with it. That was the plan. That was _your_ plan. That was your plan that you weren’t vocalizing to _anyone._

That was the plan that had you sitting alone on the ground waiting to hear the name Guillaume outside of the check-in tent. 

Just then, you saw a man who was wearing the colors of Toussaint waltz in to register. _Bingo_ . Well, _maybe_ bingo. There were actually quite a few knights of Toussaint entered into the tournament...only they all exited the registry tent having slightly different titles and wearing different colors. You wondered what the Duchess would have to say about _that_. 

You heard someone clearing their throat, and you looked up, then rolled your eyes. _Ugh._ “Hello, Regis.” 

“Hello, Maina,” looking around at the people walking by, then into the sun, then he looked at the tent you were sitting in front of and arched a brow at you. “It seems like you’ve changed up your modus operandi a bit.” 

“Yeah, well,” you replied, “what do you do.” 

“I wonder what Geralt would have to say about that,” he said, shaking his head. You looked at him, getting angry, and saw he was pursing his lips in a way that told you he was trying to get a rise out of you. He always did think it was funny when you were a little annoyed. Well, he was in for _quite_ an entertaining future. Which reminded you…

“You need to tell Dettlaff where you’re going next time you disappear,” you said, effectively. 

“My,” Regis replied, “aren’t we _succinct_ today?”

Then you both heard the name “Guillaume de Launfal of Toussaint” being called to announce the exiting knight and looked at each other. He nodded his head as if telling you to take the lead. You did, and with a huff. 

_God,_ you thought, _this Guillaume sounds terrible._ He really did, the entire time he was walking he recited a new, terrible poem for a woman named Vivienne and judging from the poem, he didn’t know her one bit. Judging from the _poems,_ he sounded like a complete creep who thought he deserved the love of a woman just because he _wanted_ her. 

You looked over at Regis and saw him looking utterly appalled. His eyes traveled to yours and widened, shaking his head. You involuntarily started to laugh. _Damn it._

You followed him through the crowd to a tent that _had_ to be the _best_ in the tourney grounds. It was nestled away from the rest of them by a small pond. _If only Dettlaff and I had gotten this one,_ you imagined, a wave of excitement hitting you at the thought of it. Regis' body tensed next to you, and you swallowed. The pair of you got into position behind the trails of brush at the edge of a small woods.

You took an extra moment to recover from the embarrassment before finally looking at him, “well,” you said quietly, “we know where he is, and that he’s here.” 

Regis nodded slowly at the tent. The back of your neck tickled, again. Why was he making your neck tickle, these days? He looked at you and asked “Can you feel it?” 

You licked your lips, being held by his gaze. For a moment, you weren’t sure what he was talking about.

“ _Oh,_ ” you said, trying to act normal. You closed your eyes _shut_ and tried not to think about your blush, then called out for the book. 

A high pitched noise started to ring in your left ear, growing louder and louder. It got to the point of being unbearable. You could feel goosebumps rising on your skin and you felt cold. Something was mumbling in your right ear...not making any sense. For a moment, you feared not being able to open your eyes, but then you did.

“Yeah,” you said, and felt the hands of the Higher Vampire steady you, “yeah I think I found it.” 

He put his hand on your forehead, then looked at the tent, then back to you. “You are not going to call out for it again, do you understand?”

Your head jerked back, and you looked at him. _Who did he think he was?_

“I’ll do what I please, thank you,” you informed him. He looked at you severely. 

“Don’t be foolish,” he stood you up, and you hadn’t realized you’d nearly fainted. 

He started walking back to the tourney grounds, but you weren’t finished with him yet. 

“I can be whatever I _please,_ thank you, Regis.” You were getting angry at him all over again and you still weren’t certain why, but you wanted to find it. You trailed behind him. 

“Then will you _please_ leave me alone?” he asked you. The _gull._

“Oh, I’m sorry I’m not a thousand years old,” you replied. 

“No,” he turned around, and doubled back at you, pushing you back towards the treeline. “No I should say that you’re acting more like a _human_ at any insignificant age a human _can_ get.” 

That hurt, and you felt your lip quiver. You bit it. 

“Well that’s how I am, Regis. Not all of us get to live to become _jaded to every sentient and insentient bit of stimuli this world has to offer,_ ” you spat. “It certainly seems like _you’ve_ figured out how to be your own _age_.”

Regis’ eyes became _irate_.

“That’s _hardly_ fair, Maina.” 

He may have been right, you realized.

You also realized that you were speaking to someone who probably knew a lot about you and possibly, _probably_ even knew things you were afraid of admitting to yourself, and you were starting to get afraid of what he might say. That he might stoop to your level and rip you apart in front of yourself. 

You felt your face soften, “Regis,” you began.

But his eyes just closed at the sound of your voice, and he left. 

-

The next day you floated around feeling out of your mind. You hardly slept. You wanted to get that book and leave these grounds. The freaking trumpets, large men in armor who were pushy and self important and _condescending._ You thought of Guillaume and his love poem. _Ugh._ The crowds of people were really starting to get on your nerves no matter how much Dettlaff made you feel better. Somethings just couldn’t be unfelt. 

_Somethings just couldn’t be unsaid._

You shook your head, and felt two large vampiric hands make themselves comfortable on the small of your back. “I can’t wait to fuck you,” he whispered in your ear. You blushed. This whole after birth waiting had you both a little backed up, you thought. And, okay, Dettlaff _certainly_ made you feel better. Seeing him as a dad made you feel better. Feeling his energy made you feel better. It seemed like he’d been trying to give you space right now, though, and you hated that. 

Part of the reason why you hated that is because it made you feel like he _knew_ something that you didn’t, and you could feel that for whatever reason, he was right about it. You looked up at him, his large jaw and handsome chin obscuring the rest of his face at this angle. You loved him. He was honestly unveiling himself to be someone who you truly did want to live four hundred years with. 

Four hundred years. You pushed the thought of Regis out of your mind. You saw Dettlaff give you a sympathetic look again, and he lifted you up by your armpits like a rag doll and hugged you. You started to cry and you heard him exhale. 

“There you go,” he whispered, “ _good,_ my Maina. This is _good_.” 

You hugged his large body, “I said something really bad to Regis, I think.” 

“Mmm,” he said, his voice taking on an air of comprehension, “so that’s what had happened.” 

You went limp in his big loving arms. You wanted to melt into Dettlaff for the rest of time and forget about everything in life that made you feel poorly. But that would never happen. 

Dettlaff would never let you do that, because that wouldn’t help you, would it? 

Why was he so stupidly beautiful, always helping you and being there for you. The only thing you’d done to help him lately was console him on his _balls._ You sighed, but the thought of that made you giggle. _What if he made that up just to make you feel better?_

_Don’t think like that, Maina. Dettlaff wouldn’t do that, either._

You hugged him tighter, and he hugged you back, smelling your hair, inhaling you as if you were the most worthwhile and awesome being in the planet. 

“Is it time to go to bed, yet?” you asked him. He chuckled at you, and with one last kiss, set you down. 

-

You were walking around the outside of Guillaume’s tent alone. Dettlaff and Geralt had both gone off to Beauclair to get more safety _precautions_ after Regis told them about you feeling the book earlier, and what that energy had done to you. _Regis_. You huffed. 

You knew you weren’t supposed to be here, but you were getting anxious. What’s a little lie? Okay you were going crazy and you hadn’t a single idea as to how to fix that. The last day of the tournament wasn’t until tomorrow, and that’s when the celebrations occurred, or as Geralt put it, “the _right_ time to burglarize”. You chortled at the thought of the statement. You were just deciding that it was probably time to make your move to the empty tent when a hand grabbed your forearm and you _froze._

Then the back of your neck started to tickle. 

“What are you doing here?” you both asked at the same time. 

Regis arched an eyebrow at you in the dark. _Him and those stupid eyebrows._

“What do you think I’m doing, Regis? I need to get that book.”

“Unless I'm mistaken that is a _common_ goal shared among _many_ members, yes?”

He started to pull on your forearm as he walked int he opposite direction, startling you. Regis wasn't a _forceful_ vampire, and you pulled back, gaining your arm but losing your footings. Your ass hit the mud and you heard Regis sigh. He folded his arms and looked down at you. 

“Fine,” he said. 

“I don’t _need_ your help, Regis,” you told him. He bit his lip. 

He sighed, pulled you up from the mud and looked at the tent. You heard him sigh again. 

“Can you cut that out?” you asked. 

You heard him begin to exhale. 

“ _Regis_ ,” you were getting annoyed. 

“ _Please_ stop saying my name,” he said. OK, _that_ brought you down a notch. But you could feel your anger rising in you again, and you stormed over to the deck, and jumped up, grabbing the railing. You felt a hand on your butt push you up with ease, and when you looked down to tell Regis to _back off_ , realized that he was already on the deck next to you sticking his head inside the tent. _Ugh._

“Go _back ho--_ ,” you were going to say 'home', but... 

He looked at you like you were ridiculous, “and where might _that_ be?”

You swallowed, and followed him into the tent. To your dismay it was _littered_ with books. 

Oh _no._ You realized these weren’t books. These were Guillaume’s _journals._ Fucking _gross._ What kind of shit poetry could _these_ be filled with. You looked up at Regis and, upon seeing your expression, stuck the knuckle of his long pointer finger in his mouth to stifle his laughter. 

He shook his head, “oh, _this_ should be interesting.”

There was surprisingly no sign of anyone for a while, and you thought about reaching out to just, make short work of this, but every time you thought you would, Regis made a face at you, probably sensing the excitement that came with doing something you shouldn’t. Which was stupid. It wasn’t that you _shouldn’t_ do it, it was that Regis didn’t _want_ you to. 

_You did nearly faint._ A voice of reason told you somewhere in the corners of your conscious. 

You remembered you wanted to ask him something. 

“How do you say miracle in vampiric?” you asked, stifling the contempt that came with having to carefully replace one of Guillaume’s disgusting books of poetry back in its place instead of burning it.

You heard the older vampire swallow, then he replied “There isn’t one.” 

You felt your heart sink a little at that. 

“Oh,” you replied. There was something very _not_ _comforting_ about the word ‘miracle’ being missing from the language of the world’s longest living individuals. “Why?”

You knew it was rude, but you wanted to know. 

“I can’t say with any certainty,” he replied, and went back to shuffling through the journals.

A few minutes later, he spoke again. “Maybe it is because you’d been right, in what you said to me yesterday. Maybe we live too long and become too tainted to believe in miracles.”

You stilled.

“I..." You took a deep breath, "I didn’t mean that,” you said, sadly. “I was angry.” 

“You weren’t very far from the truth, I’m afraid.” 

You looked at him. 

“Tris, Regis,” you said, lowering your head, “paniem core, iste,” 

_Your sadness, Regis, we can heal that._

He looked at you and swallowed. 

You looked him in the eyes, “Vovo ap thi.”

_This I promise you._

_His_ face colored, and he stared at you.

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Maina,” he said.

“Yes I do,” you started, getting angry again. Why couldn’t he just believe you?

You tossed the shitty journal of Guillaume’s down and walked over to him. He stood up straight, then, and looked down at you. His eyes cutting through you. 

“ _Well?_ ” he asked. 

“We’ll find you someone,” you told him. 

His nostrils flared, and you saw his lips part ever so slightly. 

“Will you?” he asked, his eyes dancing off of your body. You realized how close you were standing. You swallowed. If he thought he was going to intimidate you, he was wrong.

“Yes,” you replied determined, “They may not be your Acern Ara, but-”

“I don’t want my Acern Ara, Maina,” he said, looking down at you. Somewhere outside you heard the rustle of bushes and sound of footsteps, but you couldn’t look away from those eyes, and how softly they were looking at you now. 

You came to in Geralt's tent, immediately after you’d disappeared. Was Regis easier for you to travel with? 

Then you started to feel the rest of your body, _this was new,_ and along with feeling your own body, came the feeling of the hands, face, and body of Regis against yours. You opened your eyes, noticing the way he had his hands laid on your shoulders, fingers around your ears as if to guard them against anything that might be too loud for your human senses to handle. His eyes were closed, not two inches from your own. His brows knit. 

His voice cracked, “alme aime nater.”

_Nourish me._

He was breathing heavily. It was erratic.

“Inik si ame,” he whispered, “prece.”

_I beg you to take my love._

He hardly had time to open his eyes when you kissed him. It felt like all the anger you’d been feeling towards him melted by these words, and what it had been masking _was_ caring. You felt his chest start to rise and fall underneath the touch of you, he was trembling, but his touch was so soft, it was so delicate. 

“But,” you tried to get a word out. 

You felt Regis’ hands on both sides of your face. “ _he wants this.”_

You didn’t have time to swallow before you went back to his lips, so sweet and tender. 

He whispered, “ _please, say my name.”_

_-_

_Two Vampires?_ You thought walking back to yours and Dettlaff's tent... _Yen really_ is _going to kill Geralt..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regis is too good of a boy. I'm really sorry if some of y'all aren't into this, but I am pretty excited. As always, feel free to leave feedback!


	28. A Book So Sinister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maina and Dettlaff (Dadlaff) bond, Regis gives Maina complex feels, Geralt tells Maina a bit about Regis. 
> 
> Then the book has it's way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dadlaff rating 10/10 
> 
> CW: sexual stuff, cursing, talk about traumatic experiences, a man burying a small child, talk of a girl with a head held on by a silk scarf.

You woke up the next morning feeling like a weight had been lifted from you, and with your body no longer feeling like it needed to be on constant alert, were able to get a good night’s sleep. Sun was trickling in from underneath the walls of the tent and a happy sigh escaped you as you rolled onto your back, through the swishing of the light summer sheets on the hard cot. Immediately, you noticed the absence of a large, firm, warm body. Which was strange, because you could _feel_ him in the tent.

Opening your eyes, you saw Dettlaff standing over you with his arms crossed. That is, you saw him before a tiny, furry body obscured your vision and lightly collided with your face. You laid back down, laughing. 

“Good morning, Dacreval,” you smiled at him before he went about flying, uncoordinated, around the rest of the tent. You saw Dettlaff cock his head, as if his ears were picking up on something, and he stepped outside the tent with Val trailing him.

You laid there, thinking about nothing and enjoying it, before he returned without Dacreval and stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at you.

“So,” the large vampire began, “how are you feeling?”

His energy was incredibly soothing, and as you looked up at him, wondered if the weight that had been looming over you had, in fact, been _partly_ his. You let your head tilt to the side as you took him in, and your body began to tingle. 

You thought that maybe you were beginning to understand how much of him was a part of you, now, and that thought made your chest burn.

“I’m feeling really, really good,” you told him, truthfully, and the first place you saw his happiness materialize was in his eyes as they searched yours. He grinned, and the tip of his nose dipped down as he tucked his lips between his teeth for a moment before a full smile broke on his face, canines perched dangerously on either side. 

He bent over you, and you felt the pad of his hand on your neck as his lips met yours. Closing your eyes, you felt his tongue slide in your mouth and fill it.

His energy began to pool and swirl like an eddy.

“We’ll have Regis check when we get back,” you gasped, coming up for air, referring to checking whether or not you would be able to have sex. His face snapped directly at you, his eyes ripe with lust. 

“Mmmm,” he growled and kissed your neck, “I hope I’m invited…” 

Then he bit down, and started to suck your blood, but Dettlaff’s touch was submerging all intelligent thought and you started experiencing a weird, full body high. You felt him pick you up from underneath your back as he started kissing the rolling hills and dipping valleys of your body. Was he _kissing_? You thought you could feel fangs, but there was a growing inability for you to think clearly. Pleasure coursed through your body and you moaned.

“Dettlaff,” you reminded him, remembering through the fog, through the spell he was casting on you, that he couldn’t fully prospect you yet. You heard his voice rise from every direction.

“I won’t,” the sound of his words echoed in your _mind_ more than you remembered hearing them, or him saying them...it was as if they’d snuck into your head silently, leaving a memory of something that you hadn’t witnessed occur. You couldn’t concentrate on it.

But he was still kissing you everywhere, and noises were coming out of him that you’d never heard before in his satiation. Letting your eyes close, you _felt_ him explore your body. Your hips twitched at the feeling of something cold putting pressure on your clitoris and you moaned, shivering. You felt something _bite_ down on your breast and spasmed, opening your eyes you saw the distant image of Dettlaff holding your nipple in his teeth, eyes fluttering as they rolled. An intense sneer appeared on his face before out of the corner of his eye he winked at you, your nipple still in his teeth and his tongue rolling on your areola. His eyes rolled again. You shivered, your vision unfocusing further and you closed your eyes again. The cold pressure on your clitoris was swirling with his energy, it _was_ his energy, dipping into your depths without warning and you convulsed. A moan shattered your thoughts and you realized it was your own. Something wet and liquidy hit your spine, sticking to it, and your body loved it, exciting in your surprise at what it must be. In his final moans you felt his softening member rub on your back, and you felt the cold, swirling motion on your body begin to lift you in its mighty current.

“ _Oh, Dettla--”_ you came, hardly even understanding what was happening, in a daze. The feeling was everywhere, and it was overtaking you, he slid two fingers in you gently so you’d have something to _squeeze_ and you _did_ , _not realizing you’d been begging for it,_ rolling your hips against him.

Then your body went limp completely. You felt Dettlaff’s hand gently slide down your back where he’d shot his semen, then set you back down.

You continued to lay with your eyes closed, feeling high, the remnants of your orgasm just now subsiding, trickling out of you as if you were recovering from a headrush. A headrush of thrill and eustress. Noticing your physical body for the first time since he began kissing your neck, you felt the large stature of your dark haired mate curl around the side of you. Trying to fit around you tightly despite his excessive mass. You felt Dettlaff’s legs intertwine with yours, and realized his fangs were retracting from your neck as he did so.

“What was that?” you asked after some time, finally and properly sobered from the unfamiliar journey he’d just taken you on. _He never sucked your blood like_ that _before…_ When he didn’t say anything you looked to him for a reply.

But he was asleep.

Your vision was filled with the tranquil image of your great, dark angel. His eyes, mouth, jaw, his brow, his shoulders...they were all so peaceful now in his resting. His hands were limp where they lay, their last task having been simply to touch you. Your fingers grazed his temple, and you let them slide down and around his ear, past his jaw as you looked at him inhale, and exhale. He must have been exhausted.

 _Yes,_ you thought, _some of that pent up energy had been his, too_. 

You didn’t know what you’d done to deserve Dettlaff. You still weren’t certain that you deserved Dettlaff. But you did know that he loved you so incredibly much. You idly wondered which of you had influenced the other more in their recent feelings of consternation. Did it matter? Could they even be different feelings, now that you both shared them? Were the two of you forever intertwined like this? Silently communicating your wants and desires to each other...even the ones you didn’t realize you had yet? 

_Yes,_ you thought. Dettlaff _had_ known how you felt about Regis before you did. But how much was how you felt about Regis because of Dettlaff? _How much of the way you feel about Regis is going to influence Dettlaff?_ His chest was lazily rising and falling as he rested on you in his sleep. Warmth budded in your chest, in your heart, and spread throughout your body. Bending your head at the neck carefully, you put your lips to his forehead at the place his hairline jutted forward, and kissed him. 

“You are my heart,” you whispered to your Dettlaff. To your very large True Higher Vampire.

-

One of Dettlaff’s hands rested on the small of your waist as you made your way through the pandemonium of the tourney grounds towards Geralt’s campsite. In his other he held Dacreval, who Geralt had brought back to the tent, begrudgingly, a few hours earlier. His red hair was stealing much of Dettlaff’s attention, who’d been pouty when you made to walk with Dacre in _your_ arms, mumbling something about you having gotten to bond with him during feeding just before. So you handed him his son. In all honesty, you were just glad Val had changed back into his precious little human form so that your nipples could get a break from all the damn _teeth_ he and his dad had.

The three of you rounded around the shooting range where a noble woman was already screaming “long live the champion” in an accent you’d never heard before. It was almost funny how the crowd still split before you at the sight of Dettlaff, even when he was swooning over his and your baby. It was like you were some great King of Yore, the way you made through a crowd with ease. _Actually,_ you thought, _maybe the baby makes him even_ more _terrifying._ You shivered. _You_ certainly wouldn’t want to get in the way of Dettlaff and his family, trying to imagine seeing him as an onlooker...or as _anyone_ who wasn’t what he treasured most of all in life, for that matter.

“I love you,” you heard him say to Dacreval. 

“I love you too,” you replied and, looking back at Dettlaff, saw him laugh with a great smile on his face. He tightened his arm around you and kissed your neck. Then, you were being hoisted up and held tight against his torso’s musculature as easily as Dacre was in his opposite arm. Something in your body told you that you desperately needed to make more children with him, and you blushed. You and your instincts aligned well. His scent of cedar wood slid into you and you felt like you might cry.

...You could maybe hold off continuing his education on PDA.

Geralt’s tent was coming into view, and Dettlaff set you down just before the door, scraping the bottom of one of his boots sharply against the lip of an anvil. You started to pull back the canvas door when it shot back and Geralt halted mid step. 

“About time,” he said under his breath, squinting into the sunlight, before he vanished back under the canvas. You looked at Dettlaff, who had his brows pulled downwards and thumb stroking Dacre’s side. You followed after Geralt into the tent. 

It smelt almost as if someone had been smoking a heavily herbal tobacco in the small enclosed area; this was the first thing you noticed about the tent at that time. It wasn’t strong, but there were traces of it. It smelt _too_ sweet - cloy, clinging, and unpleasant...like treacle. Geralt was staring down at something on the table that stood against the back wall of fabric. Regis was lounging on his cot reading through his own notes, quill in hand. He looked up at you and stilled. 

His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t put your finger on. You felt yourself _contract_ internally, involuntarily, and you shifted your weight. He sat up and eyed Dettlaff, who had just walked in behind you. A smile spread on Dettlaff’s face.

“Regis,” he greeted. 

Regis nodded, acknowledging the both of you. 

“So,” you started, going to sit on Geralt’s bed, “what’s the…the…” That’s when you noticed the second thing about the tent. There was a _hum_ in it. Wasn’t there? It was deep, and unsettling. You shook your head, and realized that Dettlaff had been standing in front of you trying to offer you Val and, by the look of his expression, had been waiting for you to take him for more than a moment. You reached out your hands and grasped him under his arms, bringing him in near. But you were distracted. Were there drums playing outside in the tourney grounds? You blinked the spots out of your vision.

You saw Regis cock his head at you in concern. When you looked up, saw that Dettlaff had moved to the table Geralt was standing next to, leaning over. _Those fucking drums_ , you thought, as they got louder. What was he looking at? You put your hands over your ears as the steady tempo grew into a cacophony. Your eyes traveled down the witcher’s arm and saw where his attention had been. It was the book. 

The drumming faded. 

The book. It was bound in black, and had red and yellow stripes down its spine. It reminded you of licorice. It was incredibly _clean_ looking, you thought. Sleek, and beautiful. That humming started up again. You stroked its spine and felt a chill run down your own. 

_“Maina,_ ” you stumbled at the sound of Dettlaff’s voice, who was now holding you upright next to the table. You looked around, wondering where Dacreval was and saw that Regis was holding him, looking at you with his brows pulled down and jaw set askew. _When did I…?_ Hands gripped harder on your shoulders. 

“Can you hear me?” you snapped your head up and saw Dettlaff looking down at you. “Are you o _kay_?”

Geralt threw a sheet over the book and his face shot to the older vampire, “ _See_?”

The humming had ceased. You shook your head, again, as it started to ache. It felt like it was splitting open. “What _was_ that?”

Dettlaff was looking at you worriedly, and before anyone answered your question he stooped down his head to kiss you, as if remembering how breakable you were. 

“ _That_ ,” Geralt started, “was our book.” 

He opened one of his bags, brought the mouth of it to the edge of the table, and slid the book with its new wrappings, inside of it. Then turned to you. 

“And there’s definitely a funk to it.” 

Dettlaff stiffened, pulling you in tight against his front. You felt his forearm bar your upper back, his breath flowing down the part in your hair as he asked Geralt, “what kind of _funk_ do you mean?”

You were glad to have the smell of his cedar wood cover that _too sweet--_ you breathed in, not being able to smell cloy herbal tobacco in the air. Your skin prickled and your eyes traveled back to Geralt’s bag. _What_ is _that thing?_

Dettlaff held you tighter. 

“I _mean_ ,” Geralt started pushing his weight off of the table and throwing a leg out in front of him, before stopping and shrugging. “...I mean that I don’t know what I mean yet.” 

Dettlaff’s chest puffed up against you before you were released. You felt for his large hand before you looked at Geralt. 

“What was with the drums and all the humming?” you asked, noticing Geralt’s eyes get wide. 

“What did you say?” he asked. 

“The drums and the humming?” you motioned to the bag with the book in it, then looking around at each of them, you offered to jog their memory, “...It was making noises?” 

The look the witcher was giving you was not one of comfort. 

“The book wasn’t making noises,” Regis stated, and you realized that he still had Dacreval in his arms, looking down at him curiously. 

“ _Yes_ , it _was_ ,” you started, but Regis interrupted, smugly. 

“ _Those_ were hallucinations,” his lip twitched up, slightly, before it went flat. “Which is cause to practice caution when handling the book.” 

He stood, then, and started walking over to you with Dacre. There was something about seeing Regis walking with your son in his arms that was... _doing_ things to you. As he held him out for you to take, you realized that you weren’t prepared for this.

Especially not in front of other people. 

You swallowed, hardly trusting your hands at the moment you took Val from his. Regis turned around and said, “I would like to take a look at the book before we proceed.” 

Then he cleared his throat and, already turning into smoke, stated, “I shall see you all at Corvo Bianco.” 

-

It was probably around midnight when you decided to finally take your dark haired vampire’s encouraging advice: you were just going to _do_ it. You kissed a sleeping Dettlaff on his beautiful forehead, and came very close to tears at the sight of him sleeping so easily, then quietly walked down the stairs of your loft and into the dining area. You noticed light from a lit candle flickering in the living room and quieted your footsteps as you slowly made your way to the front door. Then came an annoying noise that you’d become _much_ too familiar with.

“ _Hmm hmmm_ ,” you turned around at the sound of Geralt clearing his throat. His head was cradled in his hands as he leaned the back of his chair into the dining room so you could see him. “ _So_ … _how’s_ it going?”

You looked at him and rolled your eyes, then turned around, “Fine.” 

“Whatcha doin?” he asked and you could _hear_ his infuriating smirk in his voice. 

“I think there might be _two_ vampires in my life, now,” you were surprised that you’d actually told him that. You also were surprised at exactly how fucking _good_ that felt to say, and your heartbeat quickened. You wanted to say it again.

“Oh, my, _god,_ ” he replied, and as you turned around to face him, realized that you were smiling and couldn’t get yourself to _stop._ Geralt was looking at you in surprise. “Are you serious?”

You looked at him, and he burst out laughing. Looking around and putting your forefinger to your mouth, you _shushed_ him. 

“I mean, I _knew_ it,” he said, catching his breath, "I just didn't know if it was actually going to pan out or not."

You bit your lip. He was shaking his head and you couldn't tell if he was still laughing or worried.

“I know, I know…” you shrugged, walking over to him, “Something something about Yen.”

You pulled out one of the dining table chairs and sat on it. Reassessing your nerves...you definitely _weren’t_ stalling. You swallowed. Geralt was rubbing his forehead with his thumbs...he _was_ laughing, still. _OK, good,_ you thought.

“Ah, nah, Yen won’t mind this one,” he said. You felt your brows tense. Did he look relieved to you? _And why wouldn’t Yen care about Regis?_

“What do you mean?” you folded your arms, looking at him suspiciously, “she certainly wasn’t happy about _Dettlaff_.” 

The white haired witcher yawned and stretched out in his white tunic, which was untied and showing quite the number of scars on his chest. They always made you feel like wincing, but Geralt laughed at you whenever you did. Actually, you were pretty certain he had some disdain for them by now, so you generally just tried to avoid him whenever he had his shirt off...though that was for _multiple_ reasons. Well, no, namely just the one. He smelt bad.

“Yeah, but she’s very fond of Regis,” he stated it like it was an obvious fact. “I mean, _most people_ tend to be fond of Regis, but Yen in particular.” 

_Most people tend to be fond of Regis. Pfft_. You wondered how they’d feel if they ever got a chance to see his crazy, lusty, sassy side…

You felt yourself constrict again, and crossed your legs. Geralt definitely noticed, but decided to leave this one alone, which you greatly appreciated. 

“Why?” you asked him, after it became apparent that he wasn’t moving forward in his explanation. 

He rubbed his face with his hand and you heard his voice muffled underneath it, “He saved her life,” his voice became clearer as he put his hands behind his head again, looking at you, “sacrificed himself. Guess it was just his instinct. Everyone thought he was _dead_ , actually. It was so brutal. He would have been, too,” Geralt looked up as if through the ceiling to where Dettlaff lay sleeping, “if it weren’t for your lover boy saving him.” 

You were kind of speechless. _‘God that is annoying, isn’t it’,_ the memory of Yen’s voice filled your head - what she’d said after Dettlaff told her he was the one who had regenerated Regis that day at Orianna’s. _Good,_ you thought, _I’m glad that annoys her._

Then your body felt another emotion...and you remembered Regis holding Dacreval and... Your insides burned. The type of vampire who would sacrifice himself for a sorceress… Dettlaff, being the type of vampire who would spend so many years and so much of his own blood to bring him back from a near certain death…

All you’d managed to do in your life was kill several dozen people by accident in Redania. You didn’t even _understand how you did it._ You’d just woken up from _that_ dream and…

“Hey,” Geralt had stood and was pulling you up from your chair, “alright...it’s alright.” 

He gave you the sort of reassuring hug you can only get from a good friend, and you noticed that you were crying. No, you were _sobbing._ Geralt let you ride it out. Until finally, you felt that you’d regained enough control to speak, “I can’t go down _there_ , now.”

Geralt let you go and assessed his shirt, frowning slightly. “He’s not down there anyway, Maina. He’s getting a few things for tomorrow,” he wiped off his shirt with his hand. 

You sniffled, wishing you had something to blow your nose in. “What’s happening tomorrow?” 

Geralt looked up at you, “We’re taking a look into that book.” 

You walked up the stairs to your loft. Upon getting to the top step, you slowed, and stood there for a moment. The moonlight was trickling in through the window and illuminating pockets of the room. At the sight of Dettlaff asleep in your bed, you immediately felt better, then caught the reflective eyes of Dacreval in the corner near the ceiling, and smiled, walking over to him. He was just waking up, it seemed, with a yawn, and he crawled onto your finger as you extended it. 

He was so small, you thought, as you lifted him to your cheek and listened to him begin to pur. 

Then you felt a low hum and your body went rigid. Turning around, you saw the deep black outline of a book. _How did it…?_ It was watching you. Before you knew it, you had it in your hands, _a children’s fairy tale book,_ you thought, stroking it’s spine. _It really was a lovely color…_

 _“Ouch!”_ you jumped and the book hit the floor with a _thump_ . You looked at where the pain was, and saw blood trickling from your forefinger where Dacreval had been. Now sitting perched on your shoulder, you looked at him. _Thank you._ His little head started to sniff the air before he took flight off towards dad.

You were bending over to get the book, when a hand beat you to it. You startled again, _“shit_ , honey, you sca-”

“My apologies,” you froze at the sound of Regis’ voice, slowly looking up and seeing his face so close to yours. Moonlight was reflecting off those eyes of his as they regarded you. 

Neither of you stood up. 

“Is Dettlaff sleeping?” Regis asked in a whisper. You felt his warm breath on your face. You went to say yes, but only nodded.

“Mmm,” he said, looking at Dettlaff enviously, “I do miss _that_ aspect of having an,” he stopped when his eyes came back to yours. 

His tongue ran across his lips, “you shouldn’t touch this book, Maina.”

You felt your hand reaching out to his face.

“What _should_ I touch, Regis?” you asked. He closed his eyes and his nostrils flared. You heard the book slide from Regis’ hands and hit the floor with a soft _thud_ before the low hum started again and your vision went black. 

*~*

Illusions are difficult things to maintain, and, without proper care and upkeep, can begin to devolve into entropy. Indeed, _most_ illusions are dangerous solely due to their volatile and violent half-life. Which is why Artorius Vigo, creator of the Land of a Thousand Fables, became _most_ displeased when he felt a disturbance in his masterpiece. 

A disturbance that went beyond the casual spontaneous creation of an _evil witch_ here, or a small elf like man who paid towns favors while surreptitiously taking and eating their children to maintain his youth in payment _there_ , or a girl who had to keep a silk scarf tied around her neck to keep her head on tight. The disturbance Artorius Vigo felt in his Land of a Thousand Fables, or Fablesphere, had not been any of these distortions. For these pockets of distortion were _welcomed_ here, made evident by the fact that these distortions _lived_ here. 

No, the disturbance Artorius Vigo had felt was one of an opening, a tearing in his illusion that had crossed a line in the fabric of time. His first night back in his creation, he’d felt it, and so he still was feeling it. Currently, Artorius Vigo was standing on top of an outcrop with a boy who cried wolf, looking at the third rainbow _today_ sprout into the sky, when something _irregular -_ or at least in terms that apply here - caught his eye. 

A dark cloud had opened up above his favorite valley of overgrown mushrooms, and from it, two figures were falling, before becoming one, and breaking the treeline, fell out of sight. 

Noticing the sun beginning to set, he quickened his pace. He shivered at the thought of another darkness here, finished shoveling the last bit of dirt on top of the young boy’s blue corpse, and made for his newly acquired gumdrop cottage. 

*~*

Geralt was just rolling over in his bed, thinking about the day they were all about to have when he heard loud footsteps nearing his door. His body stiffened. 

Dettlaff van der Eretein shattered his door with the butt of his hand and walked in, not breaking his stride, his young son perched on his shoulder. He threw the oil slick of a book on the witcher’s bed. Geralt recoiled from the dark, sinister thing. 

“We need to get the rest of my family back, _witcher._ ” 

Geralt could tell that finding them was going to be fun.

*~*

You hit something hard with a _thump_ , and heard an “ _ooof_ ” come out of what had to be Regis. Blinking, the stars in your vision were finally beginning to subside. You looked up from where you’d fallen, waiting for your eyes to fully return to normal. Huge trees towered over you in bright, brilliant greens, and the underbrush was unnaturally - but beautifully, colorful. Huge mushrooms sprouted from the ground looking ridiculous, an iridescent hummingbird the size of an owl shot by your head. 

_That’s it,_ you thought, _I’ve finally lost my mind._

Two large hands wrapped around your body and hugged tight around you, one at your waist and the other at the back of your head, pulling you down against a warm body whose smell sent a wave of pleasure through you. That’s when you noticed that you were laying on top of Emiel Regis. 

“I can’t say that was the most pleasant landing,” his voice was muffled in your hair, as he held onto you, his heart was beginning to race underneath you. “But on the bright side,” he continued, his breath getting deeper as he smelled you, “you’re not hurt, and we’ve made it inside the book.” 

“Regis, where are...” you started, and in saying his name felt something stiff begin to grow underneath the cloth of his groin. You lost your train of thought, and decided to just lay there in his arms, smelling him.

*~*


	29. ART [DVDE portrait+NSFW DETTXMAINA]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I went in solely to extend the crease between his lips and IDK, THIS happened. 
> 
> a big "hehe" to me changing the signature...because _that's _what it needed__
> 
>   
> OK stay safe y'all!
> 
> EDIT: now there's nsfw art in here and regis' beautiful face, too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RHVZ51o6ZNE
> 
> ^I had my system on repeat and didn't notice this song playing a literal one billion times while painting. Guess I was in the zone.


	30. Sweet as Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maina and Regis deal with their first two nights in the Fablesphere while Dettlaff and Geralt finally arrive in it.
> 
> AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ENJOY IT'S A SPICY MEATBALL
> 
> https://data.whicdn.com/images/247676571/original.gif
> 
> ^Regis gif may be best summary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW's: disturbing imagery, violence, a bit of intimacy.
> 
> Don't worry, there's going to be a lot more Dettlaff in the next chapter.

A large, dark haired vampire was pacing up and down the length of the dining room. Dettlaff van der Eretein was beside himself. He couldn’t think correctly or scatter the pernicious thoughts of her being in danger. Of the _possibility_ that she was in danger. He was shaking, and every few minutes he couldn’t even hold Dacre without worrying his body would betray him and he would transform. He was _ready_ to proceed with this, and continually eyed the tired, white haired witcher currently handling his son. 

“You _know_ ,” Geralt began, watching a small human Dacreval finish the last drops of a concoction, “if you wanted to do this part yourself, you could have.”

Dettlaff sneered at him, and Geralt rethought being snarky for a moment. It wasn’t a half hour after the imposing vampire had stormed into his room waving around the forever undulating black book, and he was tired. Looking at the small child, Geralt watched with incredulous eyes as he slowly started to turn back into a bat. He smiled, and looked up at the dark haired figure. 

“That should keep him like this for a few days,” he said, and watched as the baby flew to his deadly father. Geralt was fairly certain that there wasn’t anything further he could do to comfort the vampire than to just get it over with already. Sighing, he grabbed both of his swords, and his medium armor, and a few concoctions. He grabbed extra for Val...just in case. He also decided to grab Maina’s silver sword. She’d like that, he thought. Maybe some heftier boots...

He turned from his armor stand and saw the large, dark vampire looking at him amused. “Are you _ready, witcher?_ ” 

In truth, there were quite a few other things Geralt had wanted to pack, but at the risk of amusing the vampire further with the necessities of mere mortals, he decided what he had would have to suffice. 

“ _Yes_ ,” the white haired man shrugged over to his dining room table while Dacreval started to make unpleasant squeaks at his dad. Geralt figured it was the small bat equivalent of crying for mom. 

Dettlaff cupped his babe in one large, vampiric hand turned-bird cage, and put him to his upper chest. “I know,” he whispered to him. “We will find her soon enough.” 

Then, Geralt holding his bag of necessities and Dettlaff holding his son, the two of them reached for the black book.

*~*

You were traipsing behind Regis through the heavy, colorful underbrush. _Why did I have to get transported here in my nightgown?_ A nightgown _and_ short boots...of all the looks in your closet… You could feel sweat running down your back in the heat of the nearing midday sun, and eyed the vampire in front of you who was still wearing his long leather vest, seemingly unaffected. _That vest..._

Regis had insisted upon sleeping in a tree last night, which you thought was very vampiric of him. The image of him hanging upside down from a branch, creepily in the night, had filled your head. Then you’d thought of how Dacreval enjoyed hanging off of one of the buckles on Dettlaff’s jacket (it was now Dettlaff’s most prized buckle) and...and then suddenly the image of Regis hanging upside from a branch meant something very _different_ to you.

Imagery aside, he’d been adamant on the fact that neither of you had any idea what lay in these woods, and despite the fact that he probably _could_ take care of any potential threat with ease, that he’d rather avoid it altogether if possible. You couldn’t argue with him on that one, and when he’d told you that he wouldn’t let you fall from whatever branch the two of you chose...well, you were _all for it. Then_ you realized that he had intended to lay _on_ the branch, him up against the tower of the tree and you against the tower of his body, and your insides _went tense_ . Admittedly, you could _not_ have been more enthused about getting into that canopy...

That was, of course, until he turned into a giant bat before taking you into the tree and _didn’t change back into his human form_ afterwards. You just slept up against his batlike figure... and he was clunky at it. 

He didn’t wrap his wing around you like Dettlaff would have. He hardly spoke during the entire affair. You couldn’t feel his energy so you couldn’t really tell if he was feeling alright or hating the experience altogether. He could sense _you...not_ the other way around, and this thought had never made itself more prominent in your immediate psyche than it had last night in that tree, while you laid against him. Not knowing if your shifting and trying to get comfortable was annoying him, or if the way you kept waking up with your head buried further and further into the fur of his chest was _too_ much, or if you were snoring, or if he and the rest of this weird fairy tale land _really could_ hear your mouth shift and throat swallow as often as you had been... It made you so _nervous_ and to top it all off, your breasts were beginning to hurt from what could be possible engorgement and you had no idea when to do hand expressions for that. How would you even begin to introduce _that_ factor? _‘Excuse me, Regis, I must go off into the brush for a moment to milk my painful boobs…’_ You could just imagine his deadpan stare back at you and his adam’s apple dipping thinking about it. 

All of this turmoil didn’t really matter, though, because you had gotten to sleep under his leather vest. You’d grabbed it from the ground before the two of you ascended. You felt like a coward, but, not having to admit something was easier. So last night, under the guise of being cold, you held onto his long leather vest as if you were _freezing_. It smelt amazingly of his most human self, and you hoped whatever Regis could sense from you in the many times you pulled it tighter over your shoulder could be interpreted as satisfaction from being made warm. 

Then, this morning, you saw him inspect his garment with a careful eye, before putting it on. You wished you could know what he was thinking, or sense how he was feeling. _Anything_. 

Regis had wanted to start out by looking for Artorius Vigo and _you_ wanted to get back to Dettlaff and Dacreval. The only problem was that neither of you knew what actions would take to you to your desired endpoint. What’s more, Regis seemed a little put off by the fact that you wanted to return without finding Artorius or any clues to his whereabouts. It wasn’t like you _didn’t_ want that, you just wanted for Dettlaff and Val to be with you _during_ it. _That_ seemed to put him off even _more_ . Finally, the two of you decided that you would just go to the most unstable part of the illusion, which translated to the most _wicked_ , and try to find what laid there. The sooner you found anyone to talk to, the easier that task would be. It seemed like an all around shit plan to you, and you could tell that Regis was annoyed with the fact that he couldn’t have finished preparing. Or you were aware that Regis was annoyed, _period._ Truthfully, you’d started to blame yourself for some of that annoyance. 

You took a deep breath and ran your hand along the sweat on your back, not being able to take the feeling of it any longer. Currently, the two of you were still making your way through the woods. You were trying not to panic about not being with Dettlaff and Dacreval, but you were struggling. 

_I really wish Regis would slow down,_ you thought. 

You didn’t notice that you were staring at the gentle swaying of the back of his shoulders. Long spindly flowers, taller than Dettlaff in his bat stage and colored more beautifully than the paintings of Beauclair were towering overhead and all around you, but you didn’t see them. The sunlight of late morning was illuminating the patterns on his clothing, and the back of his neck. Then something caught under your boot and you tripped forward. 

A large vampiric hand caught you at your forearm and you steadied.

“While I fully understand how distracting the scenery can be,” Regis said, looking around at all of the long, spindly underbrush in their purples, and turquoises, and oranges, “I _would_ ask you to be a little more mindful.” 

“Oh,” you said, standing up with his aid, “right.” 

He turned around and kept walking, so you kept following. 

_Why was this so difficult?_

/\\_~.~_/\

Dettlaff was rocketing downward through the air with his small child in hand. Over the heavy set of his brow he could finally see land through the clouds, and it was fast approaching. To his side, the witcher still looked like his vision had been robbed, and had curled up in what looked like a ball. The vampire looked back at the ground.

He still had a little time, yet. 

He scanned the landmass that one could now clearly see. It looked mostly of farmland, but there were woods, and a castle beyond absurdity, too. Maybe they would make for the castle. 

To his dismay, though, his hawk eyes could not locate the one thing he actually cared to find. His Acern Ara. Nostrils flaring, he kissed Dacreval before putting him in the witcher’s pocket, and put his clothes in the bag that the witcher had let go of involuntarily some odd hundred-feet-through-the-air ago.

He eyed the nearing ground as two large wings shot from his back and he exploded with mass. Dettlaff took the small man who held his son, wrapped him in his arm, and grabbed the bag of his curious belongings, before he beat his heavy wings against the air and brought them all upright and to the soft ground, seamlessly. 

  
  


*~*

The slope you were walking up _had_ to give, you thought, as you looked around you at all of the curious and ridiculous foliage. You’d resolved to settle down. Dacreval and Dettlaff would be _fine_ , you’d snuck away to do your hand expressions and your bosom felt better, and you were with _Regis._ Regis, who, despite seeming a little annoyed with you for a reason you couldn’t understand was, along with Dettlaff, maybe one of the most capable beings you ever met.

 _You’ll be fine_ , you thought to yourself. _Just relax._ The self talk was working, because the more you started to take it easy, the more enthralled with your surroundings you became. 

Finally the two of you reached the top of the hill, and your jaw dropped. _More woods._ But there was also a small village, and one that looked like nothing you’d ever seen before. It was curiously placed, and there were no people about. Beyond the village and more woods, though, you could see a spire of a palace. An absolutely _ridiculous_ looking palace. You closed your eyes and pushed your energy out, hoping for some direction. 

But there was nothing.

You looked back at the village and wondered what the story was, there. You turned and looked at your companion and saw that he was staring at the sun, which was descending _quickly_. Then he turned his dark eyes to you. 

He wasn’t saying anything. 

You looked back to the village, and suddenly saw a _very_ large wolf walking across the square. No, a very large _werewolf_. It had a bonnet on its head, and was wearing round glasses similar to the ones that Geralt had given you to wear at the tourney grounds. You shivered, and realized that you were standing next to Regis, now. 

And that you’d grabbed his hand. 

He looked at you, lifting his brows, “Shall we?”

You looked at the wolf, “ _What?!”_ you yelled. Regis seemed like he was actually beginning to enjoy this, and it was the first time you’d seen a smile across his face since you told him that you didn’t care to find Artorius Vigo. You felt him squeeze your hand back a little. Now _you_ were almost smiling.

Until you remembered what he was suggesting you do, and you felt your eyes get wide as you looked down at the square and realized that the clothed wolf was no longer down there. You subconsciously pressed your body against the vampire next to you. 

_“Where did he go?”_ you whispered, scanning the trees and the road and the small blue-gray stone buildings of the village below you. 

You turned your head towards Regis, whose eyes were dancing in yours again, so very close. A smile formed on his mouth, one that you could tell he was desperately trying and failing to conceal. 

He looked absolutely smitten. 

“ _I don’t know_ ,” he whispered back as if playing along in some sort of game, “ should we _investigate?_ ” 

Then, releasing your hand, the older vampire started walking down the winding trail over a small river and through the woods. You tossed your arms into the air and started following him.

“ _Regis!_ ” you whispered. 

“Maina,” he replied, “you’re with me, dear, you don’t need to keep _whispering_.” He whispered the last word over his shoulder for emphasis. Your eyes went wide. He was _definitely_ upset about something.

“Well, I’m in a damn nightgown, I don’t have my sword...” you continued.

Regis threw a hand over his head and pointed his finger down at himself. A grunt escaped your mouth, swatting another big blue bumblebee. The _third one_. _What’s_ with _these things?_ _Do they make blue honey?_

“What about if we get _separated? You can't protect me then._ ” you pointed out, losing your footing at a surprisingly steep switchback. 

Regis chest was what your face collided with, and gently, because he’d caught you by both of your arms. You looked up at him, suddenly breathing heavily.

“Do you think I’d let that happen?” he asked, his eyes were hard in their gaze. 

You realized that it wasn’t rhetorical, and swallowed. 

“...n-no,” you answered, only half aware of anything. 

His eyes looked down into yours with such severity that you felt yourself gape in return. 

“ _Good_ ,” he said, brows pulled down, before releasing you and continuing down the path to the bridge. “Because we’re talking to this wolf.” 

You took a second to catch your breath, before running after him. 

The town was a little... _different_ when you got close to it, you realized. Namely, you were certain that it was actually raining _ash_ , second, it _smelt_ horrible. There were huge kiln looking fixtures that didn’t _feel_ right. As the two of you took your first steps onto the blue-gray stones of the street, you snaked your hand down Regis’ arm, holding yourself close to him. You didn’t care. You were, in all truth, scared. 

He started to remove it from your hold. 

“Please,” you said, looking at him, “I’m…”

“What?” he asked, giving you that deadpan expression again. _Why was he so sassy right now?_

You swallowed, and looked downwards.

“Scared,” you took a deep breath. “I’m scared.” 

His brows released their tension as if he remembered himself, then he nodded, and stopped trying to dislodge your arm from his. You pointed to one of the large egg-shaped pieces of clay, the ones you thought might be kilns. His head followed your pointer finger, then it slowly returned to look back at you. His eyes widened marginally, and he gave you a slow little nod. Your eyes got even _bigger_ in return. 

“You’re not serious?” you asked. 

He started the two of you walking, again, towards what looked to be an Inn. “There was a body half strewn out of the first one.” He said to you, hesitantly.

Your grip on his arm quickly turned to a vice. You looked around trying to find the kiln, and saw that he was wearing an entertained expression, again. “Do you really think that this is funny?”

He pretended to look scandalized. God damn it he was so _sassy._

He started removing his arm from yours, but before you could protest, placed it on the small of your back. _That would do._ “Do I believe you being scared is funny?”

He walked the two of you up to the Inn, “No, and _never_ ,” he gripped the handle, “but needlessly worried,” he turned it, “underestimating my ability to keep you safe…” he looked you in the eyes, “ _Yes. That_ I _do_ find amusing.” 

He swung the door open and shuffled the two of you out of the low, blue light of the world in the setting sun, and into the Inn. 

It was a _completely_ different atmosphere inside, you gaped. It was _bustling_ , and it was _much bigger_ on the inside than it was on the out. A band was playing music that you hadn’t heard from beyond the door, a pig was standing on two feet behind the counter doling out ale and some other drink that was milky and pale pink in color. The din from the crowd was deafening and you looked to be about the only human-looking-people in the place, save for the very, very small ones you saw on a few of the tables, and one very old but good natured looking woman. There were talking goats wearing ties, a goose, the band was composed of _three bears_ , _several_ wolves and pigs, and...and now you were feeling a bit bad about judging that wolf outside. _Only that wasn’t really a wolf,_ you thought, _that was a werewolf._ You felt slightly more justified as you turned to Regis, who was standing completely still in the doorway, looking the most taken aback you’d ever seen him. 

His eyelids tensed, then, and when you went to step further into the Inn, he grabbed you by the hand and pulled you backwards towards him. You stumbled, slightly, and caught yourself on his shoulder. It looked like he’d moved his mouth. Was he saying something? 

“ _What_?” you asked, putting your head closer to his. You felt his breath on your ear and your neck, and shivered. 

“ _I said,_ ” he started, and seeing that you still couldn’t hear brought your ear to his mouth, “ _That I do not trust this place, Maina. Be weary, okay?_ ”

He cupped your face with his hands and stared down into your eyes, and mouthed _“Oh-kay?_ ” one more time to you. You closed your eyes and nodded, sighing. 

_Damn it,_ you thought, you’d just started to hope that this place would be _okay_. Your brows drew down and you could feel yourself pouting. You could see Regis’ stupid smile out of the corner of your eye and that only made things worse. 

“ _Stay here_ ,” he told you after sitting you at a table near the hearth. You felt yourself mimic his words as you watched him make his way to the bar. Your heart was starting to beat a little faster in your chest, looking at him. Then your heart actually started to ache. You missed Dettlaff and Dacreval. You missed them so much. _They’ll be fine, Maina. Dettlaff will be fine._ Would he though? Without you? Your heart wanted to explode wondering about it. Heck, you even missed Geralt. Well, no. _Of course_ you missed Geralt, too.

By the time Regis made it back to the table with a bottle of something for himself and a glass of pink liquid for you, you were desperately trying not to cry, and happy for the distraction. 

“What’s that?” you asked him over the musical bears, who were singing a song about Thumbelina, and you wondered if _all_ of their songs were themed like this. 

Regis looked down at the bottle he was holding, “Mandrake cordial…I should hope _._ ” He pocketed it and set down the glass with the pink liquid on the table before he set _himself_ down in the chair. “ _This, however,_ ” he said looking at it, curiously. 

“Milk?” you guessed. He arched a brow. “From a pink cow, of course.” 

He chuckled. Then he looked up at the ceiling with one eye closed, pursing his lips.

“That may _actually_ be the best approximation,” he said, resigning. 

“Are you going to try it?” you asked. He shook his head.

“It's doubtful.” He bit his lip, before squeezing it between his thumb and forefinger. “The barkeep informed me that there have been _incidents,_ as he so elegantly put it, north of here, in a village of Griggs near a lake.” 

He sat back, adding, “and I happen to trust Griggs.” 

You were starting to feel warm from...well, from just _speaking_ to him. Speaking to him in a somewhat relaxed manner. _Trusts Griggs._ If it puts him in a better mood while you find your way out of this place, _however one finds their way out of this place_ , you were up for it. 

Only, you didn’t want to sleep outside. 

You wanted to sleep _inside_. 

The pink liquid inside the glass was swirling by the movement of your pointer finger, when you looked up, Regis was looking at you, curiously. 

_Yes_ , you thought, _you wanted to sleep in a bed._

You stopped swirling the liquid. 

_His bed._

Regis shifted in his chair. “Maina…”

You snapped out of your daze, eyes going wide. 

“So?” you asked, knowing that he could probably tell that you’d gotten... _excited_ , looking at him. 

He frowned. _Why was he frowning? What could he have to frown about?_ Oh god, _did he actually not_ want _this? After all this fucking trouble?_ They had rooms in here, right? They had to. 

“I don’t understand you, Regis,” you started. You were _actually_ getting pretty upset now. _What the fuck is with him?_ “I thought…” you found yourself standing. “I thought that you…” you swallowed. 

Regis put his hands on your shoulders, “Maina, please sit down,” he told you, holding your arms. “I need you to stay right here while I go talk to the patrons and then we will find a place to sleep, _okay?_ ” 

_Yeah_ , you thought, _in a fucking tree where you’re a bat._

But you didn’t say that. You just nodded at him, and realized that he was waiting for you to sit back down. You did, slowly. 

When Regis walked out of sight, you stood and drank a bit of the pink liquid from the glass. 

_Mmm,_ you thought, _strawberry._ Pink milk _indeed_. 

You set the down the glass and walked out of the Inn, you were ready to see about these fucking _Griggs._

-

The village of Griggs was _much_ closer than you had anticipated, and you were both relieved and slightly embarrassed that your show of revolting was somewhat... _muted_ by that fact. You were just walking up to it in the cold dead of night and could see the small entrances of the villagers' homes peeking out from the face of a large...you couldn’t really call it a hill, it was smaller than a hill, you realized, as you got closer to it. It was more just a mound at the base of a very large tree, with _many_ large yellow mushrooms surrounding it. Yellow mushrooms larger than you by some number of feet. Actually, the closer you got to this village, the more you realized that it wasn’t getting _any bigger._ You were nearly on top of it and facing your feet when you reached it. 

_It was fascinating._ The edifices of each nook were illuminated by candle light, as you searched them in awe. For a moment, you wished you could be so small as to fit in one of them. 

Then a breeze rolled through the branches of the trees in the night, and you shivered. You heard something like a finger snapping, and, searching the small village, realized that it had been the sound of one of their little doors closing.

“Mad _am_ ,” a small woman piped up who was standing in front of you... _what was she wearing?_ It looked like she belonged on a mountain, yodeling. She marched up to your foot and you were surprised that you took a step back from her. “If you’re looking for the inn it is _that-a-way_.”

She pointed in the direction you’d just come from. 

“Um,” you laughed, nervously, “I’m actually here to ask if anyone in this village has seen anything out of the ordinary.” 

You’d say it was about _now_ that you realized you were being incredibly rude. The small woman, by the look of her countenance, realized the same in much less time. 

“Well,” she started, walking in a circle, “if it isn’t a _big_ person needing something _right now._ You come back tomorrow and ask and _maybe_ you’ll get your _big answer.”_

She slammed her door shut. 

_Well..._ you thought... _yeah. Yeah,_ _you deserved that._

You had just turned to make your way back to the Inn when you heard another voice.

“Excuse me,” you looked down and back at the face of what looked like the Grigg woman’s even smaller husband, “if you’re looking for a night’s sleep we have a room for big folk.” 

He pointed a spindly, little finger in the direction further down the path, further _away_ from where you’d come, in the direction of the lake, which now noticed you could see from here. You looked down at him, apologetically, “I’m afraid I don’t have any coin.” 

The small man still had his finger pointed in the direction of the lake, “What’s _‘coin’?_ ” he asked. 

You stopped yourself from looking surprised. “Um, it's nothing.” You looked down towards the lake, “I can stay there?” 

The man with his ever pointing finger nodded. 

“That’s okay with you?” you clarified again. 

He nodded. He was pretty tiny, and pretty cute in his lederhosen. 

“...Well,” you sighed, desperately wanting to sleep in a bed with some comfort. “ _Okay,_ then. Thanks.” 

You smiled down at the Grigg man, then turned towards the lake and started walking. 

You didn't see the man stare after you, his finger still hung in the air at the lake. His smile was slowly growing, becoming too large for his face, until it reached ear to ear. 

  
  


-

The vampire Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy was _furious._ No, he was _seething._ He walked out into the night, leaving the noise of the Inn behind him. 

If you’d asked him right then, he’d probably tell you that he _hated_ the woman he was in this land with. He wouldn’t have meant it, and he would be mistaking his passion for another emotion _completely_ , but you wouldn’t be able to tell the vampire _that_. 

He didn’t want to think about how much he loved her. Or how he was at his wits end about _how_ to _love_ her without _biting her_ and _relapsing._

He smelt the air, and with a growing frown, walked in the direction of the Grigg village, mumbling something about insolence. 

...When he reached the village, he knew immediately something had gone wrong. He could smell it. He could smell the death in one of those little homes. In fact, one of those little homes was _ripe_ with it, and it was _very_ recent.

Unfortunately, the death of Griggs was not his concern right now. The man took a step to the east, smelling the air, then to the west, and saw the lake. 

-

“ _Fuck_ ,” you whispered _loudly_. Rubbing your arms at how cold you were. This path to the water was a _lot_ longer than you had expected it to be, and every once in a while there were pockets of canopy so deep overhead that they blocked out the moon _completely_ , leaving you to guess at your footfalls. 

The path turned, and you felt like you were now going in the right direction again. Then, you saw it. Glistening at the edge of blackness was the sheen of wet pebbles around a very dark lake. As you got closer you realized that there was also a light from a lantern, on a small building next to it. 

_That must be the room_ , you’d thought. 

Finally the trees subsided and you were able to see again. The path looked happier... _unlike that lake,_ you thought, turning towards the light you’d seen earlier. A breeze rolled through your hair, and you were surprised to find that it smelt like sea water. 

You stopped, leaving the thought of the building and turning to the curious mass of liquid. _Was it saltwater?_ That was curious. You noticed that there was a dock there, now and had an overwhelming desire to look at the great dark pool. 

You looked back at the one room building...it could wait. 

The breeze picked up and was flirting with your skin as you made your way to the end of the dock. It was incredible cold on it, you thought, somewhere in the back of your head.

The lake was _massive._ The moon was full. You could see the treeline run jaggedly all around it. You sat at the edge of the dock, but dared not hang your feet in the water...it was _so_ endless looking below. Just a void. You swallowed. 

Just then, a face started to emerge from the pool. But it wasn’t mean, or sinister, or unfriendly. It was the face of a great turtle, on the long neck of a sea creature, or a snake. To your surprise, it spoke.

“What are you doing here?” It asked, peering at you, curiously. 

“Um,” you looked around, “I was just going to stay in that room.” 

It nodded. “It’s a very nice room.” 

You smiled. 

“We often get visitors.” 

There was something in the way it said visitors that made you uncomfortable. 

“But unfortunately,” it started to smile. You decided that it wasn’t a very pleasant smile. “...they never stay long.” 

You put your hand on the dock and went to stand, but found that you were slowly sinking downwards no matter how hard you tried to use your legs. You were sinking into the _dock_. You panicked... _the dock was sinking into the lake._ Your vision was getting blurry as you made to scramble backwards, but you were moving in slow motion. Your feet were just about to be submerged in the black water when you felt something on your shoulder, it was _sharp_ and you felt yourself being pulled upwards. 

You _gasped for air._ You were _soaking wet_ and coughing up water. You felt the stone pebbles of the beach under your hands. Regis was standing over you in his transitional form, soaking wet and _covered_ in blood. At his feet was the body of a terrible looking, wet, disfigured old man. He looked like a scaly, bloated _corpse_ and had a crude puppet of a turtle on one of his hands.

Your eyes went wide; your blood ran cold. You looked at the lake and realized that there wasn’t a dock at all, and swallowed. Your eyes went to Regis, who was back in his most human form. He pointed at the building. 

“ _Now_ ,” he said, furious. 

You were sitting on the bed of an actually pleasant room. Only there were possibly two-hundred and some _more_ seashells adorning surfaces than you’d normally prefer. You shifted. Your nightgown was soaked and you were cold. Regis had lit a fire in the fireplace without a word and went back out to remove the evil thing that lay on the shore. You didn’t really want to talk to him. 

You were afraid to talk to him. 

Just as you were about to go check on his progress at the window, the doorknob turned. You sat further back on the bed and braced yourself as a _still_ very enraged Regis rolled in and closed the door. 

“Would you mind explaining to me exactly _what_ was going _through your head when you left me at the Inn?_ ”

He certainly hadn’t gotten any less angry. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“ _Good_ ,” he spat back, “ _you should be._ ”

He was pacing, and you sat on the bed, feeling pretty awful. 

“I just-”

“You just what?!” he turned and walked over to you. “Wanted to get yourself _killed?_ ” 

“ _No_ ,” you replied, getting a little angry now, yourself. Now that you thought about it, this entire thing was _his_ fault to begin with, “but I _did_ want a decent _bed_ to sleep in.”

You stood up on the other side of the bed. 

“You know, maybe some small _comfort._ You do know what _comfort_ is, don’t you, Regis?”

“What kind of ridiculous thing to say is that, Maina?”

You were really, very angry. 

“It’s the kind of ridiculous thing a human would say,” you said, walking over to him. “You know, _human,_ as in what _I_ am.” 

His eyes were staring down at you. You didn't understand why it seemed so much like suddenly he didn't _want_ you.

"Pensin nac Ra?" _Do you think me wicked?_ You asked him, tearing up. He froze.

"Es kalem," _Y_ _ou are heaven,_ he said, voice cracking, "mi oroas." _My_ _sunrise._

You wanted to laugh in his face. 

He started to look desperate, “You don’t understand why I can’t…” 

“You won’t _tell me why you can’t!"_

“I’ll be overwhelmed,” he said, looking away. You thought you saw fangs in his mouth when he said it, and you realized what he meant. He thought he’d not be able to stop if he bit you in excitement. You wondered if he was worried you’d end up like Amilie.

 _You_ weren’t worried. _You_ believed he was strong enough for this. 

“Regis,” you started, and his eyes closed again from it. 

When he opened them you saw that he was looking you up and down by your nightgown, which was completely see through, now, you realized.

 _Good_. 

“I want you,” you told him, “and I don’t judge you for the past.” 

He swallowed.

“How _sanctimonious_ of you,” he said, not looking at you. 

There was just _something_ in the way he pronounced _sanctimonious_ that really, _really_ broke the camel's back.

You looked into those deep eyes of his.

“Fuck me, Regis.”

The vampire's chest started to rise, and he looked at you severely. _Dangerously_.

“Don’t _toy_ with me, Maina.” 

“I’m not.” 

You saw his jaw flex. He was on you in a second, pushing you backwards on the bed. He was sucking on your neck, not breaking skin. He was removing his clothes with incredible speed. You put a hand to his chest. 

“Regis,” you started, “maybe you shouldn't…”

You felt his teeth graze your jugular and you pushed against his chest _hard._ Regis backed away slightly, shaking his head clear. He looked at you. 

“I’m sorry,” he swallowed, beginning to look a little lost.

You sat up and put your hands on either side of his face, again and looked into those deep eyes of his. 

“We’ll take this slow, okay?” 

Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy held your gaze, nodding, then his eyes met your lips, so you closed yours and kissed him. You kissed him gently, surprised again at the softness of his lips, at how tenderly he returned it. You noticed that he was naked, now. You noticed that his hard cock was staring at you, and you were a little surprised at the length of it. 

He propped you up and you involuntarily constricted in anticipation. You felt the fat head of a penis nestle itself between your labias, slightly. You stroked the back of his neck reassuringly, and felt Regis take a breath. Then he pushed. You felt the head part your lips and slowly move to the back of your vagina, filling you along the way with its girth. You moaned, again, involuntarily. 

“Ha-ahh,” you were trying to speak, “are all vampires, um, this well euhn--endow-ed.” 

You felt Regis’ jagged, nervous chuckle in your ear. His chest pushed up against yours, and he breathed on you.

His arms wrapped around you and squeezed, his groin twitched. 

“Oh Maina,” he said, desperately, his breathing growing louder. “ _Maina,_ ” he said more intensely, and you felt him leave you slightly, then entered you _hard_. You squealed. 

“ _Re-_ gis,” your voice came out high pitched and different. His chest pushed more rapidly against you as his breathing became more excited. Regis drew back his face and stared at you, you stared back, thinking his eyes endless pools. He bucked again, you tried to hold his gaze but your eyes rolled back into your skull. 

He cocked his head once to the side, looking at you in disbelief. He reached out and held the side of your face. Then, he really started to fuck you.

He thrust again, and you yapped, still having a hard time looking at him. His base had just hit you in the best spot and you _needed more of it_. He had the same intense look on his face he’d been giving you for the past few months. Sweat beaded on his temple, his jaw unhinging as he fucked you, his hard dick surprisingly sweet and addicting. You squeezed, wanting more of him. Missing him when he was gone for the millisecond long intervals. You bucked your own hips, grinding on him inside you, his head tilted back and he growled... and you’d never heard him growl before. Then Regis grabbed your legs and slid you right up him until his base smacked your open thighs and his balls smacked your ass. His chest was really heaving, his nostrils flared, his eyebrows drew down intensely...and his _stare._ His stare was more than anything in the world, in that moment. It was so sweet, and loving, and _longing to fuck you harder_.

Regis bent over you, and you felt his warm breath spread over your skin as his hand went to the small of your back and tightened, lifting your body to his. “ _You’re incredible,”_ he whispered in your ear, his voice cloaked in desire, in _pleasure_ . He thrust into you more as his arm stayed tight against you, holding you so close and dear to him. _“Fuck, Mai-,”_ he started bucking harder, seeing him like this was driving you insane. Euphoria spilt into you, your high filling your heart as well as your groin, which was engulfed. Just when you thought it was over, Regis started to cum inside of you, and hearing his voice unhinge as he called out your name sent a second, _stronger_ wave of pleasure through you. Your eyes rolled into your skull as you threw your head back and came harder than you ever had in your _life_. You grabbed at him, completely overcome. When you came down you felt Regis kissing the base of your neck on the trachea. You went limp, but he held you up, tighter. You felt him softening as he pulled out, and with it, the drippings of his orgasm. 

Regis loosened his grip, allowing you to lay on the bed, again. You took this opportunity to catch your breath. He stayed there, above you looking at you with those eyes still, and reached out a hand to your face, again, feeling you, like you couldn’t be real. 

You cupped his hand in your own, and sighed into his. You heard him swallow. 

“I’m here,” you told him and his eyes met yours, again, “and I’m here for you.” 

He closed his eyes, and came to lay against the top of you. You felt his arms wrap behind your back. Your head cupped gently. You pushed him on his back, looking down at him. You removed your nightgown and he stared up at you as if you were a goddess. 

Then you kissed him, and felt him become excited again where your bodies met. You kissed his neck, and he moaned, longingly. 

“Do you want to fuck me again?” you asked him.

His breath hitched, and you felt him up against your entrance, again. 

“Maina, I want to fuck you for the rest of your life.” 

You felt him slide into you again, and you rolled your hips downwards on top of him, before you puckered them forwards, hitting a spot in you that made you gasp in delight. You let your upper body fall backwards, and he sat up to catch you, kissing your neck. 

“I shouldn’t,” he started, breathing heavily, “again…”

You dipped your hips against the head of Regis’ cock, it was so _deep_. For a moment, it was _too_ deep, and you grunted in pain. He slowed, swallowing. You looked him in the eyes. 

“Shouldn’t _what?_ ” you asked. His eyes rolled at the sound of you trying to speak through the pleasure. “ _Cum inside of me_?” 

He laid back again, and he thrust his cock inside you, grabbing your ass with both of his hands. He gasped. “You could get…” 

You rolled your hips, and lifted yourself up, then back down. You leaned forward so that your clitoris was up against his groin and you heard yourself squeal. 

_Pregnant?_ You thought that was what he was going to say, and you felt yourself start to burn up. “ _Fuck, Regis,_ ” you rolled your hips harder and he let out a noise that made you crazy. You looked him in the eyes.

“Don’t worry,” you swallowed, “ _I want that._ ”

For a moment, Regis stopped. His eyes scanned your face, they scanned your body, they looked down at his own self, then back to your face. 

He was asking if you were certain.

You smiled at him, and nodded, and he pulled you in to him, and fucking went _crazy_. Pushing and pulling you with his hands on your ass like he knew exactly where to hit you, and _he did_. You tried to lift yourself up to see his face and _died_ from the state of him. _“Maina,”_ he moaned, “ _Maina_ ,” his voice got higher, he bucked again, and stilled, staying deep in you. You felt the warmth of his seed spread inside you and trickle out of your body, _again_. You twitched, and kissed the side of his face, before you rolled off of him. 

You felt sore almost immediately, and winced. 

He looked at you concerned. 

“No,” you told him, looking over at his beautiful face, “no, Regis. It’s good. I’m fine.” You looked at him harder, “I’m so much more than fine.”

He kissed you. When he spoke, his voice was throaty, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

"Regis,” you started, his eyes were on you. 

How were you ever going to get over those eyes. 

“Don’t think like that, please.” 

“Mmmm, _fine_.” He replied, kissing you. “But only because you posed _such_ an effective argument.” 

Your jaw fell open a tad.

It was a few hours later and, the fireplace still roaring, you were little spoon. You knew you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. You just knew it. This was all too exciting. Who you were sharing this bed with was too exciting. You wondered how Dettlaff was going to react. _That_ was too exciting, too...though you were also a little _afraid_ of some of the possibilities. 

You went to roll over when you noticed a familiar sound. It was breathing, but it was very peaceful. Regis twitched behind you, his sweet scent of herbs filling your nose as he breathed. He was sleeping.

*~*

The illusionist stood in the old cottage and sighed at the small hand mirror. He'd really hoped that it wasn't _this._ For half of his life he'd fear this place, and for half of his life he searched for it curiously, creating the most fertile environment for it possible. He sat in the chair and thought, then had his decision made up for himself. He would let it happen. The man was curious about whether or not the woman really could see...there were so few of them left, these days. He put the hand mirror on the bed, and left the palace door ajar, a wicked smile on his face. 

*~*

[Regis and Maina F*ck](https://imgur.com/a/1Hyf6rj)


	31. Fleshy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maina and Regis head in the direction of a lone tower; Geralt tries to clean his silver sword while babysitting as Dettlaff searches the Land of a Thousand Fables via the skies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say there was going to be a lot of Dettlaff in this one? Next one. You know what they say...absence makes the heart grow fonder (or was it groin grow firmer?).
> 
> *Overall note on the fic  
> This fan fic is long and is only going to get longer. I am realizing again how far this thing has to go. There's a lot to express here and it might take some time and words to get there. I can say with confidence that we'll get to a loving family o dads _before _Dacreval hits manhood lmao.__
> 
> __
> 
> __Alright, stay safe out there and again, thank you all so much! Seriously, y'all are truly cool and I'm grateful.  
>  Next chapter should be up tomorrow night. XD Enjoy!_ _

*~*

You’d woken up at nearly dawn, shook by a disturbing dream, and were a little disheartened at the fact that Regis wasn’t laying next to you...but you also weren’t incredibly surprised by that, either. Still, you thought you could at least let yourself be disheartened.

The two of you were walking towards a very tall tower that you could just barely see over the tops of the trees. The funny palace in the distance was still calling to you, but the tower was closer by miles and almost on the way. So you and your companion had figured _why not?_

His footsteps were always barely audible, you noticed a few miles back, after leaving the village. You took a bite of one of the biscuits he’d bought at the Inn. He’d also learned of the location of a smithy, that was apparently by the seashore just northwest of the tower _._ The thought of which made you shudder. The hairs on your head still smelt a little like saltwater from last night. Regis words from earlier this morning still running through your head...

_“I’m not surprised to see it’s still bothering you,” you heard Regis’ voice approaching from behind. You turned your head and looked at him, walking up to you apprehensively, before turning your attention back to the lake. It was so peaceful now. It was so much smaller than what it had looked like last night._

_“What was that thing?” you asked, pulling on your nightgown as the breeze ran through it. There was a fog, or a mist, that hung low over the lake’s water, and through spacklings of underbrush in the forest beyond it. You shivered._

_“It was a Perimanibus,” The older vampire stated, standing next to you, “they’re only real in mythology,” he pinched his lip with his thumb and forefinger, “and Dauk mythology, no less.”_

_You appreciated the fact that he didn’t try to make you feel silly for not knowing what they were._

_“Which is why I’m surprised one was here,” he went on, “either Artorius Vigo is very well versed in pre-Nordling culture or something else is influencing these illusions to spiral…but in the direction of Dauk mythology?” Regis brows pulled downwards and his nostrils flared. His eyes got wider and narrower at the same time as they tensed. Then, with a shake of his head, he continued._

_“Perimanibus are dead things, Maina. They’re said to be the remains of men and boys who venture out into the bog alone at night,” Regis looked at you, his eyebrows lifted, and he cocked his head, “there’s nearly always a bog involved with Dauk mythology, you see.” Then he looked back at the lake. “Apparently they lack the physical capability to touch victims, as they begin to feed on the flesh of their prior communities, until after_ _said victims_ _are dead. So they wait in the waters...and in the_ bogs _, of course, then lure them into drowning by tricking their victim’s senses into seeing and feeling false phenomena.”_

_You realized that you had taken a few steps back from the water’s edge. Regis’ face turned back towards you. “You were drowning, Maina, and not complaining one bit about it.”_

You shuddered at the memory, and realized that you were no longer enticed by the buttery biscuit. Shrugging, you put in the leather bag you found hanging from a sign. You were desperately hoping that this bag wouldn’t have any stupid, weird, fairy tale or mythology related nonsense in it as well. Regis had inspected it thoroughly, though, so you felt like you could trust it. 

The sun was clearing away any of the gray mist that had been brought by the briskness of dawn, and you could feel the morning settling into its own. A twig snapped loudly beneath your foot, and it sounded different here than it would have in the real world. _Everything_ sounded and looked different here. It was as if someone had dyed the lens of an eyeglass that made everything sharper, more vivid, and more beautiful. The fact that there was danger lurking made that beauty a little disconcerting. 

_“_ Phthalo,” you heard yourself say out loud, looking at the tight, steep rolling hills around you. The thought had been on your mind for the past several miles and you couldn’t remember the word for it until now. 

“Excuse me?” Regis asked over his shoulder, holding a tree branch for you to pass under after him.

“Is Artorius Vigo a painter?” you asked, falling back in step behind the older vampire. 

Regis answered your question by making a gesture with his hands at the environment around you, before answering, “It certainly appears so.” 

You could see his smirk form in the way the back of his cheek rounded on his face. He stepped elegantly across three river stones over a creek and turned to you, “Why do you ask?”

“The moss,” you replied before taking his outstretched hand and letting him help you across the stream. You looked around again at the hills, then your eyes followed down the side of the path where the earth sloped into a low point of packed foliage. Light danced off the tallest bracken ferns in the divot and accentuated the dark shadows of the unknown beneath. You felt your toe graze a rock and steadied yourself, turning your attention back to your footing, “their colors. I think maybe Artorius Vigo is a painter, because all of the moss in the area is composed of colors that are made out of the pigment Phthalo.”

You saw Regis cock his head at that, then he turned to you, and you saw that there was a genuine smile on his face as he observed you momentarily, before straightening himself on the path and continuing forward. “Is that so?”

You nodded, then realized that he couldn’t see you doing that. The back of his shoulders were falling into that mesmerizing swaying that happened when he found his cadence. Light was dancing off his neck again, and you felt the unmistakable urge to kiss it, but instead you opened your mouth and spoke. 

“Yes…” his neck was so fleshy, you thought. _All necks are fleshy, Maina,_ “...so far and only in the moss he’s used phthalo. Phthalo blue…” you continued, like a mumbling idiot, “...phthalo turquoise…” you wondered what the sweat on the back of his jaw, in the place where it started to meet his ear, would taste like, “...phthalo green…”, and what about the skin at the base of his hairline, “and phthalo emerald,” that would need licking, too, you thought.

The toe of your short boot tapped another root and you shook your head, refocusing. With a final, sparing glance at Regis in front of you before you resolved to _pay attention to where you were stepping_ , you saw that the back of his cheeks were rounded, again. 

  
  


/\\_<l>_/\

Geralt was cleaning his silver sword and walking crosswise through a field of hay at the same time. Admittedly, he’d done this many times before. However, he’d never cleaned his silver sword while walking crosswise through a field of hay _while_ a tiny bat tried to play with his hands as he did so. 

The sun was beating down on him, but the air was still somehow crisp and forgiving. He felt like he could breathe as easily as he wanted to, and a growing anticipation for autumn back in the real world may have started to fizz within him. He squinted into the light in the sky, before searching with eyes and ears for the huge, batlike wings of the other member in the search party. Then, something was nibbling at his hand again.

“Listen, Val,” the witcher started, kicking his leg backwards and shaking it to dislodge the straws and clumps of hay from his boot, “you’re going to need to cut it out if I’m going to clean this thing,” he stepped over the next pile of hay sideways. 

The small bat flew up and clung to his shirt collar, before diving into the towel he was rubbing on the blade.

“I’m _serious_ ,” Geralt said, a smile forming on his face, “if you don’t stop,” he chortled as the bat flew back up to his neck collar, “I’m going to have to put you in a time-”

Dacreval lept again into the air, diving into the towel. The witcher let his sword fall to his side, laughing, before sheathing it. Wiping a hand across his face, he quickly scanned the sky again before continuing crosswise up the sloping field. The treeline was still _miles_ away. He looked down at the bat.

“You know,” he said, Dacre rolling around in the towel, “eventually I’m going to use this towel for something toxic,” he pet the fur on the small bat’s head, “and you’re not going to be able to play with it afterwards.” 

He thought of the rows of vampire blade oil in his cellar and shivered. His hand cupped the small body in the towel. 

A frown started to appear on his face when he noticed that he was no longer walking _upwards_ , and that the ground leveled off, revealing more hills of farmland. A windmill was in the distance, and a small building raised on stilts. The witcher thought the stilts odd, but let it go. He was more worried about whether or not this meant the vampire would insist on flying him to the treeline, which seemed to be getting further and further away. Or if he would insist on flying him to that palace in the distance... _or_ if he would insist on flying him _period._

Dettlaff as a monstrosity was terrifying, Geralt thought. He thought of his blade, and thought of his vampire oils in his cellar. No, he decided, he wouldn’t get rid of those quite yet. He felt Dacreval shift in his hand, and sighed. He thought of Regis, and felt better. 

The witcher shifted, slightly, and turned himself in the direction of the windmill. 

*~*

“I need a moment,” you told the older vampire, sitting on a horizontal mother trunk felled to the woods' floor. You’d always liked the term _mother trunk_. What it represented, what it said about the ability of a woman’s body. A downed tree was just a tree, until it started supporting _life,_ then it became more. It became a mother trunk. It was poetic. 

The pain in your breasts, however, was not poetic. Sighing, you saw that you were leaking on your nightgown. You looked up, and saw Regis' eyes get a little wide at them, before he arched an eyebrow, slowly closed his eyes, and walked away. 

You swallowed and, turning around, started to relieve the pressure in your chest. It was lonely. _He didn’t need to walk away_ , you thought. _He could have stayed._ You looked down at the way your hand was working yourself and shrugged. Then one of your own eyebrows arched. _He could have done this_. There was a twitch in your groin. 

_He could have used his mouth to do this_. 

Closing your eyes, you tried to settle yourself down. Regis wasn’t exactly...well, he wasn’t very _cuddly_ so far, in this whole thing. After last night. You felt your forehead tense up in worry. The space between your teeth filled with the pillowiness of your lips as your jaw tightened against them. You felt like maybe you were going to tear up. _He doesn’t regret it, does he?_

You shook your head. It was fine. Regis was fine. _He cares about you, Maina._ You knew that. He...he...did he _have_ to care about you? The more you thought about it, the more you wondered whether or not he really had a choice in the matter. There were tears on your eyelids and you felt your mouth quiver. You didn’t want him to see you like this. Taking a deep breath, you started on the other breast and closed your eyes, trying to relax. 

When you finished, you brought your hands back out from your nightgown and stood. You rubbed your hands with your face before you pivoted back to the direction the two of you were walking, and startled. Regis was already standing there, waiting for you. He gave you a tight smile, then the two of you were off, again, in the direction of the tower.

\---

The Perimanibus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The monster's name is a portmanteau I made from the latin words
> 
> Perimus - drown  
> Manibus - by the hand
> 
> Easy peasy


	32. Dettlaff's Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dettlaff keeps his pack safe because he loves them. Regis finally accepts his big ole feelings to the best of his ability. Geralt has a creepy, horrible, terrible time. Maina and Dacreval just happy to be here.  
> \--------------------------
> 
> “This illusion is irresponsibly unstable,” Regis' deep voice bellowed out to you through the wind. You rolled your eyes. 
> 
> “Yeah, no shit," you called back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: foul language, sex, lactophilia, violence, disturbing imagery, some pretty sad concepts, talk of death, stages of grief, hay bales...you know the drill.

It was cold and dark in the cottage. In the moonlight outside beyond the window, Regis glanced at the treeline. It was so cozy this time of year, he thought, as he watched the breeze flow through the branches and take with him any remaining leaves, expired and ready to find the earth, along with them. He turned to his notebook and, taking the quill from the inkwell and tapping it against his outstretched finger, continued writing. 

_...much of what we know about Unaeros was lost in the Second Migration pre-dating modern history. Most Northern Races of human still, to this day, contribute the deaths of the migration to Lilit, or known by Eastern Human Races as Niya. She is apparently a messiah and a devil all at once, but we shall get into that later. We are lucky that the book Af’al’al was found and adopted by the Wozgor, as it depicted all we know of Dauk mythology. In the Af’al’al, we can find that Unaeros is alive and well…_

“Regis,” the scratching of his pen came to a halt at the sound of her voice. His gaze turned back to the window, and he admired it’s peaceful quiet. A dark, four legged figure stalking something in the distance. A panther stalking a human...he squinted, a human _woman_ . “Oh Re- _gis_ …”

He turned around to look at the auburn haired woman with her loving, knowing eyes sitting on the bed. She had her hair up in a silk scarf, as she did most nights, and was using a small, handled mirror to dab the ointment he’d cooked for her on her neck’s still agitated wound. The seafoam color of the mirror was beautiful against her skin, he thought. Jade on her was the most that Jade could ever wish for. 

Turning back to the window he noticed that the panther was gone, and shrugged. There was nothing he could do about that. He walked over to Amilie on the bed and looked down at her. “Yes, my dear?”

She grinned, “what is it,” she brushed his leg with her foot, “that is _so_ important,” she eyed his groin, “that you have to write it down _now,_ while you have someone like _me_ ,” she struck a very theatrical pose, “on the bed.” 

A chuckle bubbled out of him at the sight of her histrionic form, and felt the need to give her an applause. 

“Thank you, _thank you_ ,” she laughed, rolling over and looking at him, her dark eyes dancing in the light cast by the lantern. He stood, appreciating how playfully _goofy_ the woman was, and how sexy she was, and how much he loved her. He laid down next to her, and put his fingers on her sides, her eyes got wide.

“No, Regis,” she said, trying to make her face stern. “ _No._ ”

The vampire smiled, and started moving his fingers, she giggled, trying to push him away from her, but he kept tickling. Until he couldn’t take it anymore, and he started kissing her neck. Then the place by her neck where it met her jaw, which always smelled faintly of orchids. Then lightly pecked her nose, which curved across her face like a dancer does a stage. Then her cheeks, which were full and round and always the first feature to betray her when she tried not to show glee - before her mouth could curve or twitch, even. Then, he kissed her lips, so quick to make him laugh and remind him of truths often forgotten. He kissed his Acern Ara, enjoying the feeling of her face underneath his palm, and felt himself hardening with excitement.

“Amilie,” he whispered into her, and she squeezed him. He could feel her stirring as his hand went to her waist and he pulled her nearer to him. She shook at the feeling of his breath on her skin, and pulled down his small clothes before he finished removing them for her. 

Then he pulled up her skirts, feeling her with the flat of his fingers and hardened further at the readiness of her. Her eyes grew wide before they fluttered, and he aligned himself with her. As her mouth parted her lips, he pushed himself inside her, and she let her head fall back as she took in air. “Regis,” she cooed. 

He lowered himself to kiss her neck, and pushed again, swimming in the way her voice carried his name. He adjusted himself so that he could witness her euphoria. 

“Maina,” he moaned, and froze after the word. The word sounded like a name, and a name he did not know. It was familiar on his lips, he thought. Amilie brushed his face with her hands, begging for more. Had she not heard him say this? She looked up at him with her deep set eyes.

Those eyes...

He kissed her and thrust deeper into her, she squealed in delight, and those eyes rolled back. He could feel her grazing between his legs, and felt Amilie’s hand gently cup his nuts, rubbing the bit of his shaft that was buried behind them. Regis moaned her name, and she frowned. He cocked his head at her, coming out of his daze.

Amilie's mouth moved, but she sounded muffled. 

He cupped her face and kissed her, but she pushed him away.

“Who is Maina?” she asked him, her voice becoming clearer with every syllable. He shook his head slightly. A tight curl of her auburn hair was peaking out of her scarf. It was so beautiful. How could he have forgotten about how beautiful the color of her hair was? 

He slowed his pace, and his heart started to pound. _You see her hair everyday,_ he thought to himself. He looked back to Amilie but she was gone, and in her stead was a red haired stranger, telling him that she wanted him, moaning his name in her unfamiliar voice. He recoiled from her, looking around frantically and realized that he was in a different place completely. 

Regis woke up panting, sweat was beading on his forehead. He looked over at Maina, sleeping soundly next to him. He could feel his chest beginning to heave, and his eyebrows twitching. There was a tenseness about the wings of his nose, where his nostrils met his face. Blinking vigorously he grabbed Amilie’s necklace from the bedside table and walked furiously out to the edge of the lake, now misty and bitter in the first light of day. He felt his legs wobble unsteadily beneath him and he dropped to the ground, before he turned to smoke completely.

  
  


/\\_~.~_/\

Dettlaff was not panicked. Worried to his wits end... _yes._ Panicked? No. 

There were many things in life that he never worried about, because he simply didn’t _have_ to. He knew that having someone he cared about - that having _two_ new pieces of him, two pieces of himself that he cared about more than anything, more than himself even, was an invitation to bring panic into his life. But he refused to give. His large body swayed in the air, every once in a while he would catch something dark underneath him, running across the ground, but he could never get a good look at it. Idly, he wondered if that was what having a shadow was like. 

He smelled the air... and waited for his skin to prickle, or his heart to get lighter. She always made his heart lighter. There would have been some sign, Dettlaff thought, if she was in danger. And so, calmly but surely, he continued searching for them from the skies. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop until he found her. Panicked he may not be, but there was a growing need to be with her. He felt his body ache from it, he felt himself losing interest in everything else- he felt the world dulling around him. 

Dettlaff was just flying past a small lake when he started to feel it. The pull of her. It was like daybreak. _Every single time_ it was like daybreak, and the promise of tomorrow, and the promise of being fulfilled. Dettlaff needed his mate more than anything in his life. He was simply powerless to stop it. 

Maina’s smile kept running through his mind, as was the way she bit her lip without noticing, when she was trying not to laugh at him. The way her hands gently ran across the line of his jaw when she thought he was sleeping, and probably then when he _was_ sleeping. How sometimes she would begin to say something ridiculous that she absolutely believed until it was partway out of her mouth and she began to laugh. He loved the way her eyes became squinty and mischievous when he was doing something boring, only to run up and annoy him in a way that made his heart swell and his laughter soar. He loved her smell. The way she thought she hid her inappropriate sketches from him and failed. How her eyes never mocked him when he was sad or hurting. How she wasn’t afraid of him. How she told him the truth whenever she could. How she squeezed her tiny hand in his. Her eyes lit up whenever she saw him, and Dettlaff did not know what he did to deserve to have that. To have this little human who loved him so much. To have her mother his children- _their_ children. Dettlaff swallowed. To have this human who loved him even when he was like _this_. 

The feeling was growing stronger and sharper, and Dettlaff’s eyeless face snapped in the direction of it. He tucked his wings and dove, gathering speed, before beating them down sharply and making for the steeple.

*~*

It was nearly midday when you finally reached the tower. It was surrounded by a pond of brilliant blue, and there were magnificent flowers everywhere, but...you shivered. Staring up at it, you realized that you weren’t so certain this had been a good idea. This entire, _getting sucked into a book,_ thing. In all honesty, that tower was giving you the creeps and you didn’t want to go in it. 

The older vampire looked back at you where you stilled. “Maina?”

“Why can’t we visit _that place_ over there, instead?” you asked, pointing to an awkward, lonesome house beyond the tower. Actually _that_ place gave you the creeps, too. You felt like you’d seen it somewhere before....

In your dream. You’d dreamt of it. It reminded you of the massacre. Your massacre in Redania. You could not remember it clearly in the light of day, anymore. You closed your eyes tight, reopening them to find Regis with his hands on your arms. The chest and shoulders of your body were lulling when finally Regis put his arms around you and pulled you into an embrace. He smelled so good. _Why was he being so distant?_

“There, there,” he said, patting your back. Even his words were distant. You looked up at him. Distracted from the thoughts of the your prior life. From that nightmare. It had seemed so real. You shook your head. 

“Okay,” you said, trying to sober yourself from your own recollections. _It was just a dream, Maina,_ you thought, looking at the tower and all of its stairs. _Stairs._ You frowned. Then realized something, “are you going to take us up?”

Regis blinked. “What?”

“Yeah,” you replied, slowly, his face showing no signs of comprehension. _What was with him, now?_ He was fiddling with something underneath his shirt. “Why don’t you just take us up to the tower?”

His brows pulled down. 

“As smoke,” you said, enunciating each syllable as if he were hard of hearing, or downright bad at understanding which apparently he _was_ at the moment. He licked his lips, and stared down at you. Then he held your body, and you both were gone. 

You came to, again, immediately after you’d disappeared - obvious that you hadn’t traveled far. Regis still had his arms around you, and you smelled him. Taking him in completely. You shut your eyes and held him against you. “Regis…” you started. 

His grip on you tightened, “Maina,” he whispered, “I’m going to take us back out of this place, now.” 

“Wha-?”

“Trust me.”

You were sitting on the ground outside of the tower, now. Waiting for Regis to finish doing whatever it was he was doing up in there. When you saw smoke travel down off from the window in the top room, you started to stand, and stopped doing expressions. Regis reappeared. 

He was still in his transitional form, covered in spectre dust. 

“I think I would very much like to _leave_ this place,” he said, turning back into his most human form. Staring up at the tower. 

“What happened?” you asked, gaping. 

“I met Rapunzel,” he was swatting the dust off of his clothing.

 _“Oh!”_ halfway through your short reply your brain processed what he’d actually said, and you couldn’t help yourself, you just...started laughing. The image of Regis battling a small blonde girl for an hour sent you buckling over. Your knees hit the ground. “Oh _no!_ ” you said between gasps “Not Ra _punzel?!_ ”

Regis was trying to hide a smile and was shaking his already pitched head, as if you were doing something rather undignified.

“Well,” he started, “you should know that she wasn’t at all…” he was starting to break, his teeth showing in the beginning of a laugh, “Maina, _please_ ,” he was really trying to get through this sentence, but the more he spoke to justify it, the funnier his initial explanation of _I met Rapunzel_ became to you, “she wasn’t very,” he bit his lip as his smile became harder to conceal, the middle of his eyebrows raising, before he broke and started to laugh with you, “ _pleasant_.”

You both had to close your eyes at that last one. 

“ _Pleasant_ ,” you barked, and, opening his eyes motioned at his spectrael dust _coating_. He was standing with his head hung down and his hand on his forehead, his shoulders lifting and falling with his guffaws. He looked at you out of the corner of squinting eyes, smiling, and shook his head. Then he sighed, regaining some of his composure.

“She was actually quite,” he cleared his throat, trying to remove the smile from his face, “formidable,” he said, extending a hand to you, working his mouth from the laughter. You giggled, but tried to calm yourself. You didn’t know if you were ready to take his hand, yet. 

“Regis,” his eyes closed, again, “I’m sorry if you feel like…” you swallowed. _Don’t be a coward._ “I know that it’s out of your control…” you felt your nose tingling, “the way you feel about me,” your breathing was sounding an awful lot like it did a few moments ago, and you realized you were crying, “but I care about you and this hurts.”

Finally it looked like he understood what you were saying, and you closed your eyes before you could see his coming expression.

“ _Oh,_ ” you heard his voice over your head, and you felt yourself being wrapped up in his arms. “ _No,_ Maina.” His breath was on your face, and you felt him kiss your forehead. “Oh I am so sorry _,”_ his voice sounded sincere and for whatever reason this just made you cry _harder_. He stroked your head lightly, and kissed you on your forehead again. You felt him taking steps, and you were able to reduce your cries to sniffles. 

You opened your eyes and saw that he’d set you down in a prairie a little ways away from the tower and the pond. He had you across his lap, holding your torso near his. 

The two of you sat there in silence for what seemed like a long time.

You were observing the way birds moved in the sky, here. It seemed so unnatural...like they weren’t really overcoming gravity. Like they weren’t overcoming anything. _What made them able to fly?_ Illusions were so curious…

Your hand went to Regis’ chest and he stiffened. 

“I feel like I am abandoning her.” 

You felt your eyes get wide, and your heart dropped. You didn’t know how you could begin to tell a person that they can’t abandon someone who is dead _._

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you asked.

“Maina you help me every day,” his voice was creaky again. “I’d ask you to please not worry about making me happy over Amilie. If you'll believe it...I, I had a bad dream about her last night. Well, no, it was a good dream. I just, I think it set me back, a bit.” 

He shrugged and put his face in your shoulder. Something was making an indentation in your chest again, hearing the way he spoke her name. The sadness in it, the longing. 

“Is it terrible of me to,” his voice cracked, reducing itself to a whisper, “to ask if I can talk to you about her from time to time?” 

“Regis, of course you can talk to me about her,” you were, in all truth, prepared to jump off of a building for him if that's what it took. “Who have you spoken to about her, since it happened?”

"You," he replied. 

You stopped sniffling and sat up, looking at him. His lips pursed under the concern on your face that you weren’t bothering to hide. 

“...Regis,” you started. His eyes left yours. 

“I’m fully aware of how ridiculous that is,” he sat up on his elbows, his head turned downwards, then up at the trees. “I couldn’t bring myself to _say_ her name, for a long time,” he shut his eyes. “I couldn’t get it out of my mouth.” 

“What made it easier for you to say her name?” you asked. Your hand went to his shoulder and you started to rub it. If he could just follow more of what helped, find what worked, you _knew_ he could continue. He could do anything. He was _Regis._

“If I’m going to be completely candid,” he started. You looked down at his face, and saw that Regis was staring at you with those eyes, again, “and I see no reason not to be candid with you,” he continued, you were held by his gaze, “I’ve never felt any other way around you.”

You blinked.

“You are what made it easier for me to say her name,” Regis said, swallowing, “and I think that I love you, Maina.”

Regis’ gaze went to your lips, and you felt one of his large hands pull you into him as he closed his eyes and kissed you. The supple pads of his mouth worked against yours, becoming harder and pushy in desire. You didn’t know if he was ready for this, but you desperately loved him back. You held his head and returned his kiss, like your life depended on it, mirroring his perfervid movements. Then he slowed, and you felt his thumbs on your cheeks. You wanted to fuck him. Your body constricted again.

A warmth started to spread through your body from your chest and it lingered there, building in heat, until it was almost too hot, until it was searing. Your head snapped away from Regis, and your eyes scanned the forest. You could feel him. You looked up to the skies, you realized that’s where it was coming from. 

“Dettlaff,” you whispered, and you felt your head get lighter as you stared into the blue above you. Regis came to stand by you and you took his hand in yours, and held it tightly. It seemed the world had gotten eerily quiet. The hairs on your arms were rising.

Then a figure split the cloud above you and you felt yourself laugh. Dettlaff’s massive wings cut through the blue of the sky as they approached you. He was nearly to the ground when something in your body lurched, and you stumbled. Dettlaff was speeding away to the northwest, his energy transformed into something wicked.

And he wanted you to follow.

You turned to Regis and saw that he was already contorting on the ground and growing, _changing_. Before your eyes he became the huge bat and you, without needing to think twice, climbed onto him as he pushed himself into the sky after your dark haired vampire. 

  
  


/\/\

Geralt was finally closing in on the windmill and the building on the stilts, which he realized now looked like a small homestead. He hoped that there was someone inside. Since arriving yesterday he hadn’t witnessed a single soul...or, well, a single illusion that resembled something that would have one, here. Dacreval hung from the handle of his steel sword, sleeping. 

He scanned the skies for what had to be the fiftieth time since he set out across this field, knowing the vampire would return soon to see his son. Geralt felt himself frown, slightly, as he hopped over the last stone fence and into the windmill yard. He enjoyed the way Dacre gave him his attention when the large vampire wasn’t around. It stung somewhere deep inside him when he saw Val fly to his father and nearly forget he existed until after his dad departed. Not out of jealousy, but out of desire for his own. Dettlaff was never gone for more than an hour without coming in to check on them.

And the Witcher absolutely _hated_ the fact that he could feel the thought comfort him, but it was true. He hadn’t brought a White Rafford’s decoction in case things got really dire and he was in a bind, or a set of bombs, he couldn’t meditate or at least _wouldn’t_ meditate while watching Dacreval. In all truth, he felt a little a little exposed...a little vulnerable. 

He noticed that the ground beneath him was crunchy below his feet, and when he looked down, saw that the grass in the yard was long browned and dead. The witcher’s eyebrows furrowed, and he again looked at the house, standing tall above the ground. Reaching behind him, he lightly felt to make sure that Dacre was still secure where he slept, and jogged to the windmill.

The witcher walked to the stairs that snaked their way up around the large, wooden structure and started climbing. The stairs were creaking, and on fifth or sixth step he looked down and was temporarily blinded by something. He squatted, observing the last stair he’d taken, and noticed a small, shiny seashell lodged into the wood. 

He turned and looked around him at the vast farmland, then pinched the shell between his thumb and forefinger, and smelled it. What he inhaled was the unmistakable scent of the ocean. 

“What the fuck?” he asked himself, turning the shell over in his hand before pocketing it, and standing. He shook his head, thinking that Artorius Vigo was a stranger man than he realized, or he really, _really_ had been neglecting this place’s upkeep.

“Weird bastard,” he sighed, then turned his face to side a little and said sternly to the sleeping bat on his sword, “don’t repeat that.” 

It seemed like he was making no progress by the time he was a quarter way up the stairs, and for a few moments he started to have a very real concern that this had been a trap, and he would be stuck on this staircase, forever. Then he realized that a window was approaching, and felt better. 

_Good_ , the witcher thought. 

The mill was as thick around as a high end living arrangement in Novigrad, and he’d be damned if there wasn’t _something_ inside of it. _Anything_ . He fingered the medallion on his neck, as if he could _will_ it to start humming. Geralt would go inside if not for any other reason to escape the continual _sun_ beating down on him. 

As he approached the window he noticed that the air coming from inside it was cool and soothing. He looked at the overwhelmingly yellow landscape around him one more time before propping his head up in the window frame and peering inside. 

He put his hands next to his face on the glass to block out the light, which was strange...he wasn’t used to his eyes taking so long to adjust. 

Finally the inside of the windmill came into focus, and the witcher found himself surprised that what he was looking at seemed to be a normal living room to an actual house. Aside from it being in a _windmill,_ there was nothing different about it from the houses he’d seen in the north. He blinked. A fire was going in the hearth on the side of the room across from where he stood, and he excited when he saw three people on the couch that sat in front of it. 

His ankles were getting tense from standing on his tiptoes, and he rolled one of them absentmindedly. 

There was something about the position of the couch though, he had to admit. He didn’t think most people sat with their back to the fireplace. His eyes adjusted further and saw that the figures on the couch were three older women dressed in black. One of them was very tall, the other very round, and the middle one was very small. Her feet didn’t reach the floor. The tall one was fast asleep, it looked like, and the one on the left was, too, he realized now. The one in the middle looked to be sewing something, concentrating on her hands. Her two white eyes darted upwards at Geralt, and she slowly raised her head. 

He leaned forward. Was there something off about her face? 

Her eyes were getting wider the longer they looked at him, and in his peripherals he saw that she was beginning to smile. Her pupils were shrinking. Slowly lifting her needle and thread in front of her face at him, snapped the line. 

Suddenly Geralt felt a pain sear through his ankle and he stumbled, but his weight wasn’t being supported by it and, still grabbing at the windowsill, he began to fall backwards off the stairs. 

He hit the ground below with a thud and rolled over in pain. The sky was darkening.

“ _FUCK_ ,” he yelled. Then he started to feel frantic and sat up, reaching for where Dacreval had been sleeping. “Val…” he started yelling, “Val!?”

The small bat’s chirps came from overhead, he was circling the witcher when a deafening quiet fell on the world. Geralt took a deep breath. 

“Thank _god_ you’re oka-” his body jolted, thunder cracked the air and lightening rippled through the sky as a heavy rain started to pour from it. Geralt went to stand and faltered, falling to his side. Looking down at his ankle he saw that his achilles heel had been torn...or _snapped_. 

The witcher’s eyes got wide as he looked back up at the windmill, now spinning faster and the _creak_ that came with each revolution was upping it’s pace. Water was pooling around his boots as he dragged himself to the house on stilts. His eyes searched for the ladder until he found it.

“This,” he called up to Dacre, limping to the ladder, “whole stilt thing,” he started to climb, “makes a whole lot more sense _now.”_ He reached the inside of the house and let his weight fall back on the door. The wind pushed it against him, ferociously. He caught Dacreval out of the air and inspected him, making sure that he wasn’t hurt. He looked at the little bat, “Oh,” he felt a tear in his eyes, “I am so proud of you.” 

He let the bat go and noticed his surroundings for the first time. There were knives hanging _everywhere_ from the ceiling. The wind was starting to pick up and so did their swaying. 

“Yeah…” Geralt started taking them down from where they swung before tossing them into the water rising around the house. He swore he saw a squid falling through the air. “Holy shit.” 

Then Geralt noticed his bag, floating around in the water below. 

“Oh god _damn it._ ”

*~*

Your eyes were watering against the amount of air that was being pushed into them. You blinked and grasped onto Regis’ brown fur. There was _no way_ you would do this again unless he got you a saddle of some sort. Your hands were beginning to hurt and you kept worrying that you wouldn’t be able to hold on any longer. 

Dettlaff was up ahead zooming towards a wall of blue sky before out of nowhere, he disappeared. You started to panic, and felt Regis speed increase as he heaved his body forward. The air was cutting through your vision and making it painful for you to see. The hair on your head slapping your face, unsure of which way to be blown. Regis’ accelerated until suddenly it felt like you’d been dropped in a vat of ice cold water and dried again. Opening your eyes the blue sky was gone, and what was ahead of you was a dark storm. Lightening spattered in the cloud ahead and illuminated Dettlaff's silhouette within as he flew. You looked behind you and saw that it was storming from where you had just come from, too. You felt the body you were on top of begin to rumble before noise escaped it. 

“This illusion is _irresponsibly unstable,”_ Regis' deep voice bellowed out to you. You rolled your eyes. 

“Yeah, _no shit,"_ you called back.

Dettlaff dove downwards and you realized that his energy was becoming more and more panicked. You felt Regis begin to dip his head and tried to wrap your legs around his thick middle. Your body began to feel light and your stomach funny as the two of you went into a free fall after the larger vampire. You shut your burning eyes and reopened them to see a small brown square in the water growing in size, before you realized that it was a _house_ floating in the waves. 

/\/\

Geralt grabbed onto the side of the sinking house and flung his bag onto the roof of it before dabbing his eyes with his fingers. 

“Fucking _saltwater?_ ” he yelled at the sky above. He saw Dacreval flying over the roof and yelled “ _How are you doing?_ ” The bat looked like it was becoming exhausted and Geralt was becoming alarmed. He couldn’t let anything happen to that kid. He started hoisting himself up onto the roof of the house, “I won’t let you get hurt, Val, I pro-”

The witcher’s vision blurred as his body was yanked by his ankle back into the water. He swore bubbles out into the odd sea and felt something pinch his arm. It was one of the knives he’d thrown into the water, cutting him. They were floating everywhere. He looked down at his ankle and saw the two sleeping women from the windmill’s heads bobbing lazily from underneath the house. The long arm that grasped his ankle began to _pull_.

*~*

You took a deep breath as Regis pulled back, and opened your eyes. The small roof of the house was beginning to become completely submerged. 

There was a pounding in your chest that was becoming desperate. 

“Dacreval!” you screamed, you could feel your eyes going wide. 

You watched as Dettlaff shot into the air, floated for a split second, then dove into the water, parting it seamlessly. 

“Dacreval!” you screamed, and started willing yourself to jump off of Regis, but you went blind. You came to on the roof that was slowly sinking. Regis was shaking you by your arms, trying to get your attention.

“Do _not_ go into the water, do you understand me?” he shouted through the rain. 

You nodded your head, feeling your eyes get wide as you looked at the navy ocean surrounding you. Then Regis dove. 

You started pacing and screamed into the air. You could feel yourself starting to cry and began hearing your voice repeating “it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay he’s okay.” 

Then, you felt the hairs prickle on the back of your neck, and not in a good way. Slowly, you turned around against the wind, feeling your nightgown being tossed and flapped about your body. Floating in the air was a dark mass, and it was _calling_ to you, like the book had. You stared at it, and it only grew, nearing you, you took a step back and felt the edge of the roof dig in the middle of your foot.

Then it was gone. 

Regis broke the water with Geralt in tow. You went and bent down, grabbed Geralt, and let your weight fall back on the roof to hoist him up. Water heaved from the witcher’s body as his back smacked the panels and he started coughing. “Thank _god_ ,” he rolled over, choking in air, “for that fucking vampire.” 

You knew he was referring to Dettlaff. 

A massive, clawed hand jutted from the water and grasped the side of the large windmill some fifty feet away from you, tearing into it. Dettlaff’s body was tense as he tried to lift his weight from the water. You couldn’t see Dacreval. _Where was Dacreval?_

“Dettlaff!” you yelled, not being able to hear or see anything but him. He pushed himself up and away from the windmill and into the air, again. Through the rain he flew over to you. “Where’s Dacreval?”

Two very large, clawed hands grabbed you gently from the sinking roof. Faintly you noticed Regis turning back into a bat somewhere behind you as you were being lifted upwards towards Dettlaff. Then he opened his massive mouth and a tiny, furry body flew from it and smacked you in the face. The large vampire took a huge breath, as you began crying in joy and relief. You saw Regis fly away back towards the tower with Geralt. 

Dettlaff’s massive chest was heaving, “you, my dears,” his booming voice rumbled at you and your son, who was licking your face, “are never leaving my sight _again_.” 

His energy, his affection, was flowing through you. Dettlaff broke out into a beautiful, jaggedly fanged smile before he put his face to yours and you kissed him all over it, even in the place where his eyes _should_ be. You felt the three of you dip as Dettlaff went to pick up a green canvas bag from the water, before rising into the air and, slowly, making your way back to the tower. 

-

Dettlaff’s arms held you close, and propped up by his chest, throughout the flight. Between the two of your bodies you held Dacreval, and couldn’t make up your mind which of the two of them you wanted to look at more. It was so much. There was so much. You didn’t think it was possible to spend any more tears today, and yet, in the comfort of your Dettlaff’s arms, hundreds of feet above the ground your body found a way to produce them. 

-

You reached the tower and realized that the new shoreline nearly ran all the way up to the cottage. _That_ cottage. You shuddered, and felt your grip tighten on Dettlaff. Dacreval finished feeding and was sleeping on your neck, now. You wondered if he’d ever hang from an ear lobe. You wondered how long his red hair was getting. 

Catching a glimpse of the earth rustle below Dettlaff’s wings, you let him finish lowering you. Then he changed back into his most human form, but before you could kiss him and before he put _clothes on_ , he took Dacreval and, to your surprise, walked over to where Regis was setting up camp and handed him to Geralt . You felt your eyelids tense when he turned to Regis, but all he did was put his arms around the older vampire and squeeze him until his feet were no longer touching the ground. He held him like that for a very, _very_ , long time. He held him like that until you saw tension leave the smaller vampire’s body. He held him so long that Geralt, who was sitting on a log next to the campfire he’d been making, looked up from Dacreval and over at you, nodding at the two of them with a shit grin on his face. 

Dettlaff finally set him down and he flicked his dark head up towards the tower, you saw Regis shrug and nod before Dettlaff turned into smoke and floated up to it. You looked over at Regis, who was staring after Dettlaff, blushing. He looked at you, hiding a smile, and walked away. Then, black and red smoke floated down to you and you were gone.

You came to up in the room, Dettlaff’s arms were around you and realized that he was already kissing your face. The smell of cedarwood filled your lungs as you inhaled him. He tore his face from yours and looked down at you, rubbing your chin with his thumb. His eyes looked so worried and so relieved at the same time. They moved, watching you, from your own eyes, to your lips, to your entire face to your entire body before he bit his lip. Then he lowered his head.

His hands were working their way around your body, as if checking to make sure you were all there and accounted for. You felt his breath hitch, and you realized as he set you down, your back to the mattress, his naked body gently pushing down against yours, that it wasn’t hitching in sexual desire. Dettlaff was crying. 

His hands gently tightened around your middle, then relaxed, then tightened again as his shoulders lightly rose and fell. You felt his mouth wet against your upper chest. You held your dark haired mate closer, feeling his worry in your own body, and felt your own ignite. 

“I’m here, Dettlaff,” you whispered, “I’m here.” 

“I missed you so much,” his voice was thick. You felt his two large hands reach under your butt and pick you up, holding you to him, “I missed you so fucking much…” He started kissing you, and you felt his passion ripple through you as he did so. His black, oily hair rubbed up against your face as his stubble braised your cheek. You felt his long fingers wrap their way around your neck and push down. Your eyes widened, and but you couldn’t move your head from the mattress, not with pressure he was applying on you. He moved his head from your line of vision, and something wet started moving on your clitoris. You flinched involuntarily, “ahh _h_ ,” you gasped, in delight. As he rubbed his hand against you, his breath made its way up your torso and stopped. 

“Fuck,” you heard his deep voice rumble, before a mouth clasped onto your tit and you felt him _suck_ on it through your nightgown _._ He moaned from it, but you still couldn’t move your head to see him as he held you there. He quickened his pace on your clitoris and your ass left the mattress, trying to get more from it. The sensation of relief in your tits and the licking and...his hand left your neck. 

You looked at him, and he was lifting up your nightgown, you saw his hard cock pointing at you and you swallowed. You lifted the nightgown the rest of the way over your head and as soon as you did, his hand was back at your neck, pushing it, but so was his face, licking the side of your cheek. 

“Mmm. Want me to fuck you?” he asked dangerously. You swallowed. 

“Y _es_ ,” you replied, his hand was exciting you, it hardly felt fair. You were desperate. You wanted his cock. “Fuck me Dettlaff, _please_ .” He licked the length of your face and you felt the head of his dick playing with your labia. “ _For fuck's sake I need it,_ ” your own voice was getting funny and pitched sounding.

You were getting higher and higher from Dettlaff rubbing you, and abruptly you started to come, you started to come and desperately grabbed at his shoulders.

“ _Christ,”_ Dettlaff’s lips tickled your ear, “I want you so fucking _bad.”_

As he spoke the word ‘ _bad’_ you felt the head of Dettlaff’s hard cock slide into you and immediately hit the back of your pussy. You involuntarily squeezed it. The height of your orgasm spiraling upwards and he stayed there in you, as you rolled your hips around him inside you. He rumbled, hands taking you.

“ _God, y_ es,” his voice cracked an octave.

He tore his face from your cheek and stared at you, his wolfy, steely gray eyes piercing and deadly, his jaw working. He smiled, devilishly and pulled his hips back, slightly, his hand going around your neck, again. You grasped it, and felt his thumb brush your hand, unable to stop the loving gesture.

He thrust himself into you, hitting the back of your pussy, and your back arched in pleasure. Your head started falling back but he grabbed your face and made you look at him. His lip quivered. He pushed _further_ and your eyes rolled back.

“I can smell,” he threw his head back in ecstasy, "ah _h_..." he was losing himself, "that you and Re-" you felt yourself tighten around him as he said the words, but he didn’t finish what he was going to say, because his brows pulled down and as his eyes started to roll, he pulled you to him, fucking you harder, deeper until he stilled, spilling himself inside of you. You felt his chest settle down as he dropped you against the mattress, and then himself next to you. 

Cum was oozing out of you in a steady stream and you felt yourself twitch before rolling over onto your side.

Dettlaff was looking at you as if you’d just saved him from a burning building, and you laughed. He smiled, and brought you in close to him and kissed you, holding you tight, and securely. “Hmmmm,” his large body hummed around you. 

“What were you going to say?” you asked, looking at him. His brows got tight again, and he looked pensive. 

“What do you mean?” he was moving his face towards the pillow, and you felt yourself beginning to smile. 

“Dettl _aff_ ,” you cooed, “I think you know what I mean...about Regis?”

A little smile appeared on his face and you felt his excitement as he buried it into the pillow. You barked out a laugh. “Hey!”

“What?” Dettlaff asked, muffled into the pillow. 

“Out with it.” 

You saw his back rise and fall as he took a breath. He lifted his head and turned it to face you, letting it smack on the pillow. The dark haired vampire made a show of taking in breath, his brows rising “I was wondering if he’d join us, sometime, _darling_.”

Your mouth fell open, and Dettlaff put his face back into the pillow. 

“Forget it,” he mumbled, and you climbed on top of him. 

“I love you, Dettlaff.” 

“I love you too,” you heard him say, face emerging again. 

“And certainly I would not mind having sex with _two_ strapping vampire blood brothers,” you watched as his eyes went wide and his face colored, “at the same time.” 

He growled at you, and flipped his body around underneath you so that you were on his front. His face still rosy from blushing.

“But I don’t know if Regis is ready for that,” you admitted, “um, also…” 

Dettlaff’s eyes got a little tense, and you looked away. You felt his large hand go to your face, his thumb engulfing your chin. How could you tell him that he wanted...that _you_ wanted…

“I think Regis wants…” you shrugged, and made a gesture downward around your middle. 

Dettlaff’s eyes went very wide, “he wants _that_?”

You nodded, “I’m pretty certain.”

“Do you want that?”

You couldn’t find your words. Dettlaff was looking at you worriedly. His chest was moving you up and down from beneath you. 

“Do you still want that with me?” he asked, his face preparing for the worst. 

“What?!” you yelled, “Of course I do.” 

Dettlaff let out a relieved sigh. He hugged you, and you hugged the living daylights out of him.

You waited.

“Then I’m glad for it,” he finally said. "Mi une am mek kor." _I love you, my heart._

You arched a brow. You hadn't spoken to Dettlaff in vampiric much since you'd improved.

"Es fel Baba ip telus," _you are a great father,_ you told him, "lueus mi, pesnimu." _You lift me, beautiful soul._

"Maina," he whispered into your hair. "You make it difficult to want to give Regis time _to_ have children with you..."

You closed your eyes and breathed him in. Your mate. He kissed the top of your head.

Then, stroking his hair, you remembered something. 

“Since when do you like Geralt enough to hand him our son?”

Dettlaff rolled his eyes and smirked at you, “You said he’s your good friend.” 

You rolled over and grabbed your nightgown, putting it over your head and letting it fall. Dettlaff was appreciating the view. 

“You just like him because when he watches Dacre _we_ get to have alone time.”

Dettlaff smiled, “Well how else are we going to make _more of them_?”

“Mmmm _hmm_ ,” you said, walking over to him, putting your hands on his broad chest.

“He brought you armor…” Dettlaff added, lazily. You jumped at that.

“Oh thank _god_ ,” 

“And your sword,”

“Sweet jesus.”

“And something to take for male potency.” 

Your brows furrowed, and he shrugged. “I thought maybe you would want a break, my Maina,” he pulled you in and nuzzled your face. God, you missed his lionesque nuzzles, “and Regis finally figured out how to brew something strong enough to work before we left.” 

He rolled his eyes, “but I guess that’s going to work to _his_ advantage.” 

You frowned, and he laughed. 

“I _am_ happy for him,” he said, looking into your eyes, “for us.” 

He kissed you. 

“My family,” you felt his breath in your hair and felt his serenity wash over you. Through his cedarwood, you also started to smell a bonfire. Dettlaff pressed his lips into your hair, “I guess camp is having a _piri_. In the regular world, tonight _is_ a full moon...”

You felt your heartbeat quicken.


	33. Saltwater Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maina and Regis spend a little time with Dacreval in the ocean. Maina and Dettlaff take a walk together on the beach during sunset. Geralt gets stuck brewing potions for Dacre and building the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to take a few days break because my roommate and I were building a garden but guess what we finished it and this afternoon/evening/up-to-a-few-minutes-ago I made art and wrote.
> 
> So there are two art pieces I put them at the end. Dettlaff x Maina and a Regis x Maina - they're both SFW.
> 
> cw's at the end

You came to on the bank of the pond opposite the tower, where Dettlaff had smoked you out. You felt him shift by the weight of his hands on your hips before you felt his mouth lightly brush the top of your head. It felt so relaxing. 

“Hmmm,” he rumbled, “what was it you said Regis fought in that tower?”

You opened your eyes and peered up at him, questioningly. The large vampire’s expression was somewhat amused. “Rapunzel,” you felt your eyes squinting, “why?”

Dettlaff’s charcoal stubbled chin jut out half a centimeter and he pursed his lips, which were curving up at one end, “I believe your hair has gotten longer.” 

You felt a breeze where your hair had been a moment ago, now being lifted by a large, fingerless-gloved hand. The skin of your neck prickled before Dettlaff put it between his thumb and fingers and started to massage it. 

“Well yeah,” you replied as he turned you around and started walking with you to the treeline where camp was, “that’s what hair _does_.” 

A deep, handsome chuckle sounded behind you, “As remarkable as the rate of normal hair growth is, darling, I stopped being amazed by it two-hundred and seventy-four years ago.” 

You bit your lip, putting your hand on his as he rubbed your shoulder, “so, when you were two?”

“Mmmhmm,” he bellowed, placing his hands on your waist and picking you up. You felt your hair, and your eyes got wide. It had grown at _least_ four inches since you went up into the tour an hour ago. Dettlaff took his eyes off of camp just in time to see your reaction and smirked. His torso tightened under your body.

Still feeling your hair, you turned your attention to Geralt, who was sitting around the small fire. _It’s a little early for that, isn’t it?_ You thought, putting a hand to your face and turning it up to the sky, where the sun still hung halfway between midday and sunset. Then you looked back to Geralt, and noticed that you couldn’t see a tiny, furry body anywhere around him. Before you could start to the panic, Dettlaff cut in. 

“Where is my son, witcher?” he asked as your feet found the ground again and Dettlaff’s arms went around your middle. His energy relaxed as he did so, but you also noticed that his ‘ _witcher’_ lacked the bite it used to have. 

Geralt was fiddling with ingredients from his bag in a mortar and pestle. When he looked up, you saw that there was tension in his brow, “he’s with Regis, down at the water,” he knocked his head back towards the new beachline, “which means I’m stuck making the kid’s anti-human whatever the hell it’s called.” 

You followed Geralt’s head nod and saw, for the first time, through the small line of trees ahead the glimmering water of the sea. Two small bodies were shimmering in the distance. A warm breeze floated over to you, carrying the smell of saltwater. 

“I’ll get him,” you said, interrupting Geralt’s continual grumbling, and felt your large, dark haired vampire’s mouth on the top of your head one more time as you started to jog up to the tree line. 

“Hey!” Geralt called after you, “Do you want your armor?”

The balmy, inviting wind coming off of the ocean filled your senses more and more. You felt yourself panic, wondering if it was real, and looked to Dettlaff who smiled at you reassuringly. Your body relaxed and you started jogging again. 

“No thanks! I’ll get it later!” you called over your shoulder to Geralt as you cut through the last line of trees and out onto the beach. Regis was wading waist deep with Dacreval in his arms, and it looked like he was talking to him. Your feet started to sink a little in the hot sand, and the temperature rose the closer to the water you got.

 _God, this beach is long. How is there even sand here?_ Your body nearly shivered despite the growing heat and humidity. _Illusions._

“Regis!” you yelled out. The sand was getting to the point of being _too_ hot before you finally hit the first bit of water and, laughing, tried to run out to Regis without getting tripped by water. 

“Say hello,” the older vampire waved one of Dacreval’s little human hands at you, and you felt yourself getting higher from the sight. Dacreval’s tufts of hair were wisping back and forth in the light breeze, the strands too few and far between to hold any weight. A giggle was bubbling up inside of you and you dunked your head underwater before coming up. 

Regis was shirtless, and you were taken aback _again_ by the shape of him. His body was literally that of a thirty year old human, you thought. His chest, arms, shoulders and abdomen were all handsome and strong. He may not be as _buff_ as Dettlaff, but there was something about his relaxed, effortless-looking physique that was very attractive. You felt yourself swallow and ran your hand over your head, it felt heavier. _Oh yeah,_ you thought, _longer hair._

“What are you two up to?” you asked, deciding that you would let Regis hold Dacreval for a little longer. He always seemed a bit better when he was holding him - his eyes weren’t so… Well, honestly it just looked like he was in less pain. 

Regis put a long, vampiric finger to Dacre’s nose and smiled one more time before submerging your baby’s lower half into the water. Then he turned his gaze to you. You swore on your mother’s grave that that vampire had eyes that never ended. _Settle down_ , you reminded yourself. A corner of his mouth twitched, then he looked back to Val and it became a full fledged grin, teeth and all.

“I didn’t want your son to become traumatized by water,” he started, “with an experience like earlier today…” He shrugged. “Admittedly it’s never too early to begin exposure.” 

Regis talking about overcoming trauma was an interesting concept, you thought. You stood a little higher in the water, looking at Dacreval to make it obvious he was still the subject of the conversation. 

“So,” you began, putting your hands at the very surface of the water, letting the waves run through your fingers and submerge them, “since he had a bad experience with water, the best thing for him is to be around it? In it, even?”

Regis nodded.

You let your body fall into the water until it was just your head above it, and you swam over to Val, kissing him on the head. You felt the vampire stiffen, and you were fairly certain you heard his breath catch. _So,_ you thought, _he likes the sight of it, at least._

Then, taking a deep breath and not looking at him, you asked, “Do you think it could be the same fo-” 

“Stop.” Regis voice was over your head. You felt your heartbeat quickening, “I know what you would have me say.” Regis placed your son’s armpits over your hands for you to hold him up in the water, next to where your head bobbed. You felt yourself sigh as he started to pass by you. 

Then, to your surprise, he didn’t go to shore. He put his hand on yours and wrapped himself around you so that his body was up against your back, and butt. 

“You can sit back, if you prefer,” he said in your ear. 

You most certainly _did._

A large vampiric hand went to rest itself on the outside of your remaining lone hand, and his fingers intertwined with yours to support Dacreval. A beat was becoming audible in your ears, and there was no mistaking that it belonged to your heart. 

Then, you felt something hard on your shoulder, and panicked that it might be his teeth. “Regis…”

The hard things vanished.

“Did you know that the blood of human Acern Ara isn’t addictive like it is other human blood?” his voice was in your ear, and very matter-of-fact. 

“I’m not your Acern Ara, Regis,” you saw his thumb twitch on your outstretched hand, before both of his slid up your arms and around your torso. 

“If only one could will it to be so,” he kissed your neck. 

You looked at Dacreval, whose little face was becoming confused as to why his mother’s was becoming unhappy. You felt your eyebrows shoot up in the middle and try to meet each other and you brought him in to you, turning him around and letting him play with your fingers. Tension was building in your facial muscles. You wanted to ask him why you couldn’t just be enough as you were, but you feared that answer, and you didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to upset Val, either. Regis’ arms tightened around you, and his face went into the place Dettlaff’s did so many times, where your neck met your shoulder. 

Maybe this was the best you could do, right now. That could be enough, you thought. For now.

You sat and played with Dacreval in the water like that for some time, before Regis whispered into your ear, “I wouldn’t want you or Val to get too cold, dear, and it looks like your _mate_ would like a word.” 

At the shoreline you saw Dettlaff standing, weight to one hip. Regis picked you up and walked you to the beach, before setting you down. He looked up at the larger vampire and started putting on his shirt. 

“Regis,” Dettlaff started, and you felt him getting nervous. _Why?_ He picked Dacreval from your arms, kissed him five to ten times, then handed him outstretched to his blood brother, who took him without question before walking away. 

Dettlaff settled down, and you watched your son being carried off, again. You frowned, looking up at the imposing figure, dressed in black leather frock coat. 

“Aren’t you warm, Dettlaff?” you asked him, and he rolled his eyes. 

“I’m not so fragile,” he replied, scanning the beach. “Can I watch you frolic?” 

You did, admittedly, love to frolic. Before you were outcast as a heathen your parents used to call you _skippy_. Though you hadn’t realized you were getting back into the habit of bouncing when you walked. Dettlaff’s face was looking down at you quizzically when your brows pulled together trying to recollect when you last skipped. Then his brows shot up and he smiled in that sneering way, a fang sticking out. 

“You _never_ walk normally,” he told you, as if reading your mind. You could feel that your expression was becoming one of utter scandal and couldn’t help it. 

“ _What?_ ” you asked, hands outstretched the side. 

Dettlaff just let his eyes roll and he picked you up, strutting to the edge of the water before placing you back down.

The tide was coming in over your toes, too shallow to reflect the light of the sky completely. Just a clear, little sheen of liquid, barely deep enough to cover the tops of your feet. You jumped on it, water splashing up as your heels dug in the wet sand, and giggled. The sunset was beginning to color the water in yellows and pinks and blues, now. You stomped again, before Dettlaff’s low, breathy voice was in your ear, “You were saying, darling?”

-

You walked, well...walked and skipped and hopped, down the shoreline while Dettlaff strutted next to you on the beach, his long arm extended so you could use it as leverage when you wanted some extra air. Mostly, though, you just wanted to touch him.

The breeze was fantastic, and it continued to roll through your nightgown sending a shiver through your body, before the rest of the air warmed you back up again. Dettlaff had asked a few times already whether or not you would take his jacket, but it felt too good to have your skin out. It felt too nice to let yourself warm and cool naturally. 

Or as naturally as this place would allow it. 

“How was Regis?” Dettlaff asked, and you felt his energy shift into something that was unfamiliar. Looking up at him, he averted his steely gray eyes. 

“He’s fine.” You didn’t really know how else to answer that question. Dettlaff lifted you into the air, as if reminding you to hop. 

Reminding you to be happy. 

“I put your Vampiric textbooks in Geralt’s bag before we let,” Dettlaff stated. 

Now you _did_ stop hopping, and Dettlaff was forced to slow to a halt, too. You looked at him, wind blowing his black jacket in the air as if he were a massive raven. It tried to flap his hair around as well, but wasn’t working so well as the jacket. Only one inky black strand danced around his stony face, now. His steely gray eyes piercing you, unaffected by the setting sun reflecting off them. 

He was so much taller than you were, you remembered again. So much larger than you were. So much stronger. 

His eyes left yours, peering out onto the horizon. _Why was he this adamant about things going well with Regis?_

“Thank you,” you told him, “that was very thoughtful.” 

To your surprise, he blushed, and you felt him get excited. You felt him get excited in the way he got excited when it was just the two of you in bed, and he was kissing your face and nuzzling you before sleeping. In a very animalistic sense, he excited. 

“Dettlaff,” you started, and his eyes looked down, piercing yours. You remembered how he’d stuffed his face in a pillow earlier from embarrassment at wondering if Regis would join the two of you. 

_Yes,_ you thought, _it would be difficult for us not to feel similar, now._

Before you knew it, his face was under your palm, and he closed his eyes, smelling it. You stood on your tiptoes, but still couldn’t reach him, so he lowered himself, and lifted you up. Dettlaff’s lips met yours and you kissed each other. He was gentle; you were gentle. Heat was building between the two of you, his handsome jaw working underneath the touch of your palm, his tongue sliding its way inside your mouth. You put your arms tightly around his large, shrouded shoulders, and his arms tightened under your ass - lifting you up closer to him. He hummed, and it was low and rumbling. 

Then Dettlaff broke the kiss, his muzzle still drawing circles on your cheek before he pecked it lightly and set you back down, facing the direction of camp. 

“Does that bother you?” he asked, finally, and you knew he was asking you about his feelings towards Regis. You swallowed, and the thought of them being _alone_ together came to mind. There was an involuntary spasm in your lower body, a twinge of excitement, and you had to clear your throat. You weren’t certain if that’s what he meant, exactly. The thought of the three of you together was too much for you to handle, and you tried to push it out of your mind, for fear that your body wouldn’t be able to keep _walking._

“Hmmm,” you heard Dettlaff’s hum next to you, “Maina,” 

“Yes?” you asked, clearing your throat. 

“I _do_ hope the thought of me _alone_ excites you this much…” 

You stopped. He sounded fine, but his energy was in turmoil. 

“Dettlaff,” he turned to you at the sound of his name, and you saw his large chest expand under his fine leather jacket. 

“I’m trying to help it but you’re my Acern Ara, Maina. I’m going to get a little jealous even if it’s _what I want_ ,” he huffed. _Really_ huffed, and you were taken aback. He sounded _snarky_. You bit your lip, trying not to smile. He hadn’t been this snarky or territorial since you were pregnant. 

“Why are vampires so complicated?” you asked him, and his eyes got squinty. Then it looked like he was standing up taller than normal and you wanted to laugh, but something in you was actually frightened by the sight of him just then. 

“Don’t tell me you’d rather have a _human_ _man_?” he asked.

You felt your teeth starting to show in a grin despite your fear. 

“No,” you replied, “but a sorcer _ess_ would do.” 

Dettlaff’s jaw slacked a little, and he swallowed. 

“Is _that_ what the sorceress meant when she said she didn’t know that you…” his eyes got wide. “Maina, Maina, Maina.” 

You giggled, but then got a little worried that he might not like that, and your face contorted. A lot of people didn’t like that about you, and the next thing you knew you weren’t jumping or skipping or hopping down the beach. You were just walking, looking down at your feet before you realized Dettlaff wasn’t at your side. Standing your head up, you looked back, and saw him giving you a stern expression. 

In two strides he was standing in front of you, and you felt his large hands wrap around your smaller ones. He looked down into your eyes, his steely gray and mesmerizing, and intimidating. Then, Dettlaff kissed your enclosed hands. 

“I love you, Maina, and I am proud of who you are.” 

For some reason you felt very funny. Panicked, almost. Was it panic? You couldn’t tell, but your chest was rising and falling and you wanted to tell him to shut up. Your face was hot, and your eyes kind of hurt. Then you were just blinking a lot and you realized you were blinking back tears while your nose made you want to sneeze. _Proud of me? What’s that supposed to mean?_ A tear rolled down your cheek and you resolved to blink faster and harder. The corners of your mouth were pulling downwards and before you knew it he had you pulled up and close to his body. 

Everyone had always made you feel so rotten about liking more than just men. Every woman you’d been with always made you feel rotten about liking more than women. It just became something bad inside of you that you didn’t show people. Even Dettlaff’s liking men and women didn’t equate to the evil of your own truth. You wondered if you made him that way with his stupid sensitivity to you.

The large vampire set you back down and kissed your forehead. 

“Maina, ti es da fasia a falko ip nivesh.” _You are a better destiny than I could have hoped for._

He wrapped your little hand in his once more. 

You felt yourself blush at his words, and swallowed. 

“Voto?” _Are you certain?_ You looked up at him.

The sun was setting, and you could see the smoke rising above camp as you started your walk back to it. Dettlaff picked you up and kissed you. 

“I am more than certain, Maina,” he replied, and you felt his energy become excited once more.

[Dettlaff and Maina on Beach](https://imgur.com/a/r7diTLX)

[Regis, Maina, and Dacreval Wading](https://imgur.com/a/6sm0wa6)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: trauma talk and advice that you shouldn't take in regards to it, descriptions of biphobia/panphobia, coming out, smooching, language, a baby.


	34. Friends Don't Let Friends Get Sucked Dry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is what friends do, Maina,” he told you, before standing upright and firmly planting his hands on the side of your arms, looking at you, “they fry each other’s bodies butt naked in iron maidens, like _family.” ___  
> ____________________________________  
>  Geralt trips Maina up with some words about how she treats Regis, but proves himself to be a really spectacular friend in the end...and does have some things to say about Dettlaff's virility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: slight violence, language, and tangy banter
> 
> It's our BFF Geralt check-up. Line up and get your doses from the good boy! (What in god's name am I?)
> 
> Last night I decided this chapter had to happen and wouldn't you know it earlier today I read a really great sparring scene by TheWolfWhoWaited and just made me freak out about the fact that I was about to sit down and write a sparring scene lmao. Kidding it was inspirational and this chapter turned out better because of it. 
> 
> If any of ye scallywags skipped chapter 7 (maybe my favorite chapter... but it certainly is a brunchy one) or chapter 9 (you thirsty buggers!) you might feel a little lost. Well GOOD. Shame on you! Lmao I'm kidding you're all fantastic. Toss your shame to the wind. You'll make it out of the woods fine and if you DO have any Q's about things you missed while skimming, feel free to ask! Sign out and ask anon who cares. Or come up with a really great and ridiculous explanation for what you missed that is everything you wanted and more. I'm going to stop now, because I'm obviously delirious in my stupor. 
> 
> Keep staying safe out there and again thank you all so much!! Enjoy!!

The sky was still holding on to the last traces of light that came after the brink of a sunset, before full dark settled in. Twilight. Though you were beginning to suspect that in this illusion, it held onto that light much longer. You were dragging your feet through the sand as you walked with Geralt, fiddling with the same _stupid_ buckle on your armor that never seemed to stay taught in the allotted hole of the leather strap. 

_“Damn it,”_ you cursed under your breath.

“Here,” the witcher finally said, exhaling dramatically and reaching over to tighten the buckle with a simple _tug_ of his hand, his step unwavering. You were surprised to see that it had actually worked. Looking down at the brown piece of hide, you pulled on it a few times before glancing up to him. He gave you a look, “At least one of us has used buckles before, Maina.” 

You had been a little disappointed when, upon returning to camp a half hour or so ago, you noticed that your son was already back in his bat form. By the tone of his voice, you discerned that the witcher had caught on to that somewhere between camp a half mile behind you and where you currently ambled, fully in your armor, in the middle of the stupid beach, feeling snarky. 

He crossed his arms, stopping in the warm, sweet breeze. You turned around, feeling the hilt of your sword. “Oh?” you faced him, “is this good?”

“I’m so-”

“Is _this_ the right piece of beach for you?” you motioned to the sand, looking exactly the same as the rest of the miles of crisp, warm colored powder surrounding you. “This? Right _here?_ ”

With a stiff leg you kicked the toe of your boot through the sand, the tiniest amount wafting up and raining down into Geralt’s face. He closed his eyes, pursing his lips and trying to hold back a smile, but also plainly goaded. 

“I _said_ I was sorry,” he pulled out his sword, “you _know.”_

You pulled your own out from over your head. Geralt had told you carrying it on your back like that was overkill. That he only did it because he had _two_ of them to use, but you’d gotten so used to seeing him sheath and unsheath it there that it would feel weird to you to _not have_ yours on your back. Unfortunately that meant you had to watch him snicker at you every time you went to use it. 

And that annoyed you. 

You stood up straight, sword in hand, not feeling anywhere near as confident as you were trying to let on, but didn’t want Geralt to pick up on that because you were reeling. You held out your silver, and he tapped it with his steel, then he moved so quickly that you couldn’t make out exactly what he had just done, and yours went flying up into the air before it stuck into the sand. 

You felt your lips push against each other as you walked over and picked it up. When you turned around, he was still looking at you in a way that made you want to smack him. 

“Why are we doing this right now?” you asked. 

“Someone hasn’t been going through their forms,” Geralt chided you, but you were in no mood to be chided. You lifted your sword to his again, feeling agitated, the two of you began clashing.

 _Someone hasn’t been going through their forms,_ you heard yourself muttering sounds that mocked his prior voice inflection, as you started feeling pretty good about how you were doing when you perried him. “I’ve been a little busy making an _entire person_ , what have you do--”

Your sword was flying through the air. You sighed, walking over to it. You heard his voice over your shoulder. “Oh congratulations on getting knocked up, Maina.” 

Heat accumulated in your face on _that_ _one_ as you bent over grabbing your hilt, wondering how _blunted_ this piece of silver was going to be after falling into the damn sand a thousand times. ‘ _Congratulations for getting knocked up, Maina.’ What the fuck, Geralt?_ You stood and faced him, patting down the dark navy blue and deep red trimmed armor he had the grandmaster smith make for you those months ago. You _strutted_ over to him. Well, you strutted as best as you could while walking on uneven ground. You thought maybe you had the chance of looking intimidating. Geralt wasn’t smiling yet. In fact, he looked infuriatingly _even_ in his expression. 

“You know,” you said, lifting your sword as you approached him, “maybe I shouldn’t let you hang out with Regis anymore…” he swung his sword at you first, and you tapped it lighter than you normally would have, beginning to feel your mutations, becoming aware of them again, it felt as if time slowed for a moment and you watched as you let the steel of his sword slide down the blade of yours towards the ground and back at an intentionally awkward direction. He faltered, and it was your turn to snicker, “because you’re starting to act like him.” 

It looked like Geralt was starting to smile, but then he was composed again. “How is Regis, by the way?” You saw his feet shuffle and became transfixed on them for a moment, just barely realizing in time that the gleam in your peripheral was his blade. He was like lightning. You fell back and lifted your weapon upwards, not letting your ass hit the sand you rolled backwards. Geralt was closing the distance as you tried to find your footing. 

_Christ he’s being aggressive,_ you thought. 

Geralt queued up with you again, you saw his expression tense, slightly, “kinda seems like you're dragging him through the mud or something,” you felt your eyes get wide as you deflected his advances. 

_Clang._

“ _What?”_ you asked, you felt like the wind was getting knocked out of you, and it wasn’t from the sword play.

 _Clang._ You rolled. 

“Or is he jealous?”

 _Clang_. You just barely stopped Geralt’s sword. You felt your hackles rise and your ears tingled, your entire epidermis tingled. He swung again and you dodged it. He spun and stiff armed you in the sternum, pushing you backwards and forcing air out of your lungs. You rolled again, managing to get back on your feet. 

No longer caring for confidence, you charged him. 

_Clang._ Your swords met and this time _you_ spun, bending at the knee and landing on your haunches sweeping widely, he jumped back and you missed. You deflected a swing from overhead, trying to stand up, you were becoming overwhelmed. Sweat was accumulating on your brow. 

_Clang._

“Or is he still,” Geralt started, and your heart pounded as his swings became faster and faster, you becoming less and less able to keep up with them. You felt something cold on your ankles and realized there was the sound of water below you as he pushed you into the shore, “not over that one _fling_ he had?”

Your eyes got wide in shock, and your entire body got hot, your vision started to blur and you went to push him, the effects of your mutations slowing time, again. You could feel every hair on your body stand on end as you felt yourself beginning to swing your arm towards him. Something was freezing in your left hand as you pushed it through the air at Geralt.

“HER _NAME_ ,” you felt your voice ripple through something dense and you heard it surface in your own head, yelling reflexively, sounding not like yourself at all, “ _WAS AMILIE.”_

Your left arm shot straight as your hand extended fully and for a moment there was a deafening _boom_. 

Before you had time to realize what had just happened Geralt’s body jolted backwards through the air and he hit the hard wet sand with a _thud_ , his head smacking the ground loudly. Your own body had been pushed back further into the water from your own recoil.

“ _Ahhh-ow,_ ” he moaned, rolling over to his side. Concern clouded your anger and you ran over to him, kneeling. 

“Are you okay?” you asked. Worry was coloring the tone of your voice. 

“I _knew_ you could do it again,” he panted, and for the first time he cradled his head in his hands _not_ out of leisure. “Took you enough egging on for god’s sake.” 

You helped him sit up. “That was you egging me on?” 

Geralt closed his eyes for a moment. Then rubbed his face, shaking his head...which you thought was the exact opposite of wise. He opened them and gave you a look when you were obviously still upset at him.

Actually you felt like you could kill him.

“I had to say _something_ that would get you mad...and you know I couldn’t give you shit about,” he turned his head left to right, genuinely searching for a sign that either vampire was around, before dropping his voice to a whisper, “ _child-physical-form-favoritism.”_

You slumped down next to him at that. He was right. You’d been pouting.

“Geralt,” you turned your head to face him, “I’m pretty certain swordplay isn’t supposed to be this emotional.”

“Swordplay? No, certainly not.” The witcher said, now replacing his hands behind his head _in_ his leisurely fashion, “remembering, or moreso, _learning_ how to cast a sign? _Yes._ ”

You noticed now that you had been rubbing your elbow absentmindedly. Eyes widening, you peered down at your friend, who had one eye shut and the other squinting up into the sky, watching the clouds. You saw his chest expand as he took a deep breath and, deciding that watching the clouds fade into purples and blues sounded like a good idea, laid back next to him. 

Looking up at the sky, you remembered that laying on your back in the open air always gave you the sensation of being close to a giggle. You felt like you were a kid again, for a moment. Then you pushed those unwanted thoughts out of your mind. 

“Which sign was that?” you asked, remembering faintly how you had cast it the day you started getting morning sickness, the day your so called familiar saved you, the day you had woken up in Orianna’s mansion. You recalled the way it felt, then, how it had just felt. It was like winding your body up with building energy, building in the form weight... _no, not weight...tension,_ until it became too much, until it became cold. You could feel it build from wherever your stance started, until your movement focused it out of one hand or another. You wondered if you were on the right track. It was fascinating how clouds cast shadows through the sky, you thought, watching them.

“Does your form matter?” you asked, still watching the billowy shapes floating by above you before Geralt could even answer what sign it was. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him look at you, so you made a gesture with your arms like you were going to box someone, and he grinned before looking back up at the clouds, too. 

“ _Yes,_ but,” he shifted on the sand, “for starters, it’s called Aard and - look at _that_ one” he stopped, pointing at a cloud that obviously looked like a sword. He bounced his eyebrows once, suggestively. You sighed, rolling your eyes and not allowing yourself your grin. _Or a penis. What is he, thirteen?_ You swore he did this to irk you. “And it’s a simple psychokinet--”

“What about _that_ one?” you interrupted, excitedly, pointing at a fluffy cloud in the shape of bunny ears. 

“What is it a clump of dirt or something?” he asked quickly before moving on, “As I was saying, psychokinet--”

“ _Clump of dirt?”_ You started laughing, “Come _on_ you can’t start playing the game and then not let me play it.” 

“Maina I really don’t have time for this,” he said, aiming to be a pain in the ass. 

“Oh my _god!_ ” you tossed up your arms, and he started laughing. 

“Okay, _oh-kay,_ okay.” He looked up at your cloud and squinted. He started smirking and shaking his head before his face lit up a little bit, “it looks like Dacreval _trying_ to fly.” 

“What do you mean _trying_ to fly?” You asked defensively. Geralt pursed his lips infuriatingly and shrugged his arms in a weak flapping motion. 

“Like I was saying…”

“Oh my god!” You were surprised at how annoyed you were that he wouldn’t just say they were _bunny ears_. “Fine yes, yes. Go on, go on. Listen to yourself talk.”

He looked at you in utter disbelief

“I have _nothing_ to say to that.” 

By his voice inflection, you knew _that_ one was going to bother him for a while. He cleared his throat and continued. 

_“Like_ I was saying, you cast _Aard,_ ” his lips were pursing again, and you knew it was eating him up inside, “ _God_. _Okay,_ so it’s called _Aard.”_

You looked at him, knocking your forehead closer to where he laid and lifted one of your eyebrows towards him, “Yes? _And?_ ”

He shook his head at you. 

“You little shit, it’s a psychokinetic magic and it’s easy. Great work doing it.” He started to stand, “I do not like to talk just to hear my own voice.” 

Honestly, he didn’t, but this was the type of thing that had the power to bother Geralt as much as him ignoring how good you were at pointing out the shapes of clouds.

“ _Yeah_ , you _do_ ,” you said, taking his extended hand and uprighting yourself on the sand. The sky _really_ held onto light here when it wanted to. He tried to not reply to _that_ remark, he only shook his head. 

“Whatever,” he squared off towards you, “so the point of getting you pissed off enough to cast Aard was so that you could find your _stance_ when you cast it, and recognize how it feels.” 

“Okay,” you shuffled your feet, trying to plant them firmly, or somewhat confidently, in the sand and faced him. You remembered how you had been standing _exactly_ , or at least your _body_ remembered it. You looked down at yourself, impressed, before looking back up at the witcher who was nodding encouragingly. 

“You remember it?” he smiled, it only half sounded like a question. You nodded.

“Mmmhm,” you replied, his face became bracing. 

“Well, do you remember how it felt when you did it?” he asked, and you nodded again.

“Mmmhm,” you replied, and he closed one of his eyes _shut,_ squinting out of the other at you. 

“Okay, then,” he said, closing his other eye, “give it a whirl.” 

Something about him bracing himself made you feel funny. It was a weird feeling. You felt almost like you didn’t want to hurt him, like you were worried about it. You _were_ worried about it. What if you did hurt him? Maybe you shouldn’t try to do it, but the more you thought about it, the more your body tried to mimic what it had done the first time. The more you thought about it the more your body went to _do_ it. You looked down at your hands.

 _Cool._ You thought, turning them over. You looked back up at Geralt who was still bracing himself. 

_That’s what it is,_ you thought, _you feel_ powerful. 

Your eyes got wide as you looked back down at your hands, _left_ handed. You felt your left foot fall back behind the right, slightly, your weight was shifting back onto it. Your shoulder turned back as if it were trying to look behind you and so did your arm, you reached out to Geralt with your right, tapping him lightly on the shoulder, your body now coiled. He opened one of his eyes, slightly and, time slowing, you thought about casting Aard. Your body started moving on it’s own. Your hips gyrated as you moved your weight from your left leg to your right, and felt energy pooling in your torso, tightening, lifting up as you focused it into the left side of your body, the tension there was building and it felt like it was carrying your left arm through the magic alone, your palm started to feel like it had frozen before your body _snapped_ at him, and your arm bolted forward taughtly, sending Geralt through the air again. 

_Boom._

This time you didn’t fall back, you had readied yourself. You looked down at your hands, not worried about the capable witcher that was rolling around on the sand. _Holy shit._ You realized every hair on your body had been standing on end and you shivered. _Holy. Shit._ You wondered how Yennefer felt being able to do everything _she_ could do. 

_Holy. Shit._

You looked up at Geralt, who was just now sitting up. He waved at you, “Well,” he called, “you’re pretty good at throwing your energy.” 

“I suppose I am,” you shouted, looking around at the beach between the two of you, before finishing with, “else we wouldn’t be _yelling_ right now.” 

A moment later you let your hands fall and jogged over to him. Geralt seemed like he was pretty proud of you, and you extended a hand. You couldn’t wait to show Dettlaff. 

“I can’t wait to show Dettlaff,” you stated, pulling Geralt to his feet. 

“You really think he’d be impressed?” Geralt asked you, his brows pulling together, then he rolled his eyes and brushed the remaining sand off of his ass, “God, what am I saying? He’ll get that stupid look on his face before you even start talking.” 

“What stupid look?” you asked, intrigued, as you started walking towards your sword in the ground. Geralt looked at you.

“Someone's looking to get _indulged,_ ” he barked out a laugh, “you _know_ the one. Where he like, flares his nostrils and gets all fangy.”

You shook your head, wondering what the fuck he was talking about. He bent over and tossed you your sword, which you caught with ease. You felt _good_. Then he stood up again. 

“I’m not explaining it.” He pushed you on your back to get you to start walking, shaking his head and biting his grin. 

“Hey why did you have me practice on you?” you asked. It seemed weird. Air, or whatever it was, would still shoot from your body even if you were aiming at a tree. 

“Well,” Geralt said, considering, “after what I said about Regis I felt like it would be a good thing for both of us to experience.” 

Your eyebrows shot up and you looked at him, impressed. He rolled his eyes at you. Then you mulled that over for a moment. _Regis._ A thought occurred to you.

“Is this safe for me to do, now?” You asked.

He looked at you. 

“The Aard thing.” You motioned to your upper half, “ _Breastfeeding_ , and all.”

“Ew, dude.” Geralt said, continuing to walk.

“Come on,” you nudged him, your footfalls gently rising and falling more as they sunk into the softening sand of the higher bank. “It’s a serious question. For Val.”

Geralt got serious fast. 

“Oh no it should be fine for him,” you saw him smile, _widely_ . Then _you_ started to smile widely. 

You sighed, happily, before Geralt went on. 

“And now that Dettlaff is on that medicine to stop him from being _potent_ you're safe in that regard. Though who knows if _that’s_ gonna work. Took the dude like two seconds to knock you up the _first time_ -”

“Gross.”

“-literally, I let you out of my sight for a minute. _But_ , yeah. Honestly? Should be fine.” 

“So, as long as I’m not pregnant?” you clarified. Geralt looked at your expression and chuckled. 

“It’s _fine._ I was _kidding_ about your vampire’s virility. You won’t get pregnant.”

You looked at the treeline where camp was a quarter mile off and felt your steps slowing. 

Geralt’s pace slowed, then too.

In fact it slowed very, _very,_ slowly _._

Then he stopped, and you saw his shoulders tense. He turned around to you. You saw his Adam’s apple dip, and his chest rise. He tilted his head back, and jutted out his jaw as he locked eyes with you. His chest flattened again. Then his mouth opened like he was going to say something. Then he just crossed his arms as he closed his mouth. Then he shut his eyes. Then he _inhaled_. 

“ _Well._ ” He exhaled all of the air out of his body as he said it. 

It was a very loaded statement. 

“Ye _eea_ ah,” you said, your eyes finding your feet as if you’d lost track of them. 

“Maina,” you heard Geralt’s voice interrupting your toe time. “Dude.”

“What?” you asked, feeling your tone become a little defensive. _Don’t be childish._

“Is he ready for that?” 

That question. _That question._ You let it fill you with guilt. You weren’t certain of the answer. 

“I’m not sure,” you replied, honestly, pessimistically. You looked up at Geralt, and felt like maybe you were pleading. “What do _you_ think?”

The witcher walked over to and, looking back at camp, shrugged.

“I have no idea,” he thought for a moment, “ _maybe._ ”

“Yeah?” you waited, hoping he would say something else. Looking up at him you saw that his brows were drawn and he really was considering some things, and that made you feel better. 

“You want to know what I think?” Geralt asked. 

“I think so,” you replied, tepidly. 

“Eh,” he started, and took a step down the beach as if to start pacing, then stopped. “Alright let’s start with the facts.”

You nodded, realizing how utterly relieved you were that he was taking this seriously. “He’s in love with you.”

You swallowed, feeling yourself excite. 

“Oh my god,” Geralt said, starting to pace now, “Anyway, he’s in love wi- don’t - he’s, you _know_. Next fact. He’s relatively happy, or at least sad. He’s at least feeling emotions now which is good because let me tell you…”

You realized at this point in time that Geralt had some pent up feelings in regards to Regis’ wellbeing. This seemed like a growing trend.

“...he was on the edge of going to that fucking Unseen--er, doing something _stupid_ for a long time and it’s been a relief. We also know that he loves your son. How is Dettlaff about this?” The witcher looked at you as if _this_ was going to be the deal breaker. 

“Honestly I think Dettlaff is kind of in love with him.” You weren’t expecting yourself to say that, and you weren’t expecting Geralt to find his composure so quickly. He nodded. 

“ _Knew it.”_ He sighed. “How do _you_ feel about this?”

You shrugged your shoulders. 

“Should I be worried about him, um relapsing on me or something? I think that was a problem...in the past.” 

His eyes got wide, but then his face got smug. 

“Maina, do you think I went and got you all mutated up just so you could throw fancy Aard signs around? You have black _blood_ remember?”

Somewhere in your memory came trickling visions of the Barghest biting into your arm and your veins running charcoal. You looked to Geralt, your face obviously one of understanding, because he nodded at you, smiling. 

“ _Yeah_ . If you start getting scared, your blood will become toxic.” He smiled wider, and looked at you incredulously, “Do you think I’d let you go around dating vampires _without_ it?”

“Wow,” you replied. Geralt started turning to walk back to camp, but you caught his hand and, pulling him back to where you stood, hugged him. He patted your back. 

“Hey,” Geralt said, hugging you back, “it isn’t a big deal.”

To you it was a big deal, though.

“This is what friends _do_ , Maina,” he told you, before standing upright and firmly planting his hands on the side of your arms, looking at you, “they fry each other’s bodies butt naked in iron maidens, like _family_.”

You chuckled, and the two of you continued walking back to camp. 

“I think Regis becoming a dad is actually a great idea.” Geralt said, looking at you. 

You looked up at the treeline where camp was and sighed. You were probably going to need to talk to him about that, but that was a nerve-racking idea.


	35. Impending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the day slips into night, the tense party becomes increasingly apprehensive about the safety in sleeping.

Dark was finally welcoming the evening as your and Geralt’s footfalls migrated from the sandy beach to the hard dirt. The campfire was blazing lackadaisically in the distance, and the thought of being with Dacreval was sending ripples of joy through your body. It was such a stark contrast- how you felt now compared to earlier today. It seemed like you had woken up in a different world, even. You tried to not focus on the implications of the thought. Ahead, Dettlaff’s curving silhouette was becoming visible against the roaring backdrop of the fire. Breathing the cool air, you squinted, trying to discern whether or not he was spending leisure time with your son. 

“He’s been pretty tired,” You heard Geralt’s voice next to you, and saw that he was still rubbing his neck where you had flattened him.

“What?” you asked, not certain if you heard him right. 

“Val,” he nodded up towards the fire, “slept all day after swimming with the two of you.” 

_The two of you._ Regis being one part of “the two of you” made you smile, but you felt a frown growing at the corners of your mouth. Today being as long as it was made last night feel like a _year_ ago. You stared at the ground as it moved beneath you, observing darkening greens of the grass.

Then you felt a prickling on your neck. You looked up and to the left, and felt yourself shiver at the sight of a small, broken down and seemingly abandoned building. _That_ cottage. You heard Geralt’s footsteps slow, and a hand went to your shoulder. 

“What,” he turned you around with his grip, and you saw that he was concerned as he nodded to the building, “is _that_ about?”

Your weight shifted on your feet as you pulled him by the hand back into a walk beside you, “it’s nothing.”

Geralt’s eyebrows shot up before he glanced back at the small building.

“It seemed like it frightened you. _”_ He said, seriously, and lifted you over a wall of downed hay that he apparently didn’t trust, “Listen, I almost _drowned_ today saving your son-”

“You were saving your _bag_ ,” you interjected as he set you down on the other side. His eyes went wide and feigned indignation.

“I saved him like _seven_ times before that.” He hopped over the hay with ease, becoming brighter in your vision as you neared the burning fire, “So _spit_.” 

You sighed, eyes finding your feet again as you entered camp. You really didn’t want to talk about that dream. You still weren’t entirely sure what Yen had all told Geralt about that night in Redania, and you weren’t certain his perception of you wouldn’t change if he found out some of the finer details… and there was only one small part of the dream that didn't have those details.

“It’s nothing, I just,” you slowed, removing your sword as Dacreval flew up to you. He hovered over your fingers, asking to be in your palm. A smile split your face when two very large hands clasped your waist easily and lifted you up. 

“What is nothing?” Dettlaff’s steely blue gaze lit up your vision as he hoisted you in the air and walked you over to the fire. For a moment, you forgot what you had been thinking, much less _saying_. He was lowering you down to his face, searching your expression with those piercing eyes, when you found your words in them.

“I had a dream last night,” you stated blankly. Dettlaff blinked and, brows drawing, sat the two of you down on a comfortable log next to the fire. You felt his large muzzle rub against your cheek, relaxing you. Geralt went to sit across from you next to where Regis lay, fire dancing off of the older vampire as he wrote in his journal. A shiver ran down your spine, and you weren’t certain it was due to the night’s chill. 

“Maina,” Geralt started, but just as he did, your tiny little miracle unwrapped his wings and yawned, readjusting in your hand, and you lost interest in what Geralt was saying. The large arms around you tightened their grip - a low hum sounding from your mate, and you felt his energy smolder as he took in the sight of you two. 

“He’s tired after today,” Dettlaff spoke quietly in your ear, and you noticed how his words were always so much stiffer when other people were around, “I do not blame him.”

His long thumb stroked the top of Dacreval’s head, then went to cup your hand that held him. 

You heard Geralt snap his fingers.

“Dacre,” you cooed, looking down at him, his small body returning to rest. You didn’t want him to go back to sleep...not yet. You knew you would have to, but you wanted to spend time with him. Putting a finger under his chin you stroked him lightly, deciding that watching him fall asleep was good, too. Maybe even _you_ were tired...today _was_ a long day. Your voice sounded more motherly than you were prepared for when you chimed “little _Vah-al.”_

 _Snap_. 

You turned your attention back up to Geralt, who was beginning to look _rather_ annoyed. 

“Just let him sleep,” the witcher demanded flatly. “You _know_ what Yen said abou-”

“ _Yes?_ What did she say?” you interrupted, “Is it too much to ask to give my son atten-”

“No,” he butt-in, “it isn’t.” He shook his head slowly and put his thumb and index finger to his forehead, before wiping his face with the entirety of his hand, “Just, _please,_ Maina. The dream?”

As soon as Geralt finished the question, you saw Regis look up from his journal out of the corner of your eye. He was looking down the line of trees you’d just come from. Following his gaze you found that small, shrouded building, now nestled behind the canopies of trees. Your blood went thick. _Had I mentioned the cottage to him?_ You thought his eyes went a fraction too wide as he stared at it.

Geralt cleared his voice, and you remembered that he was waiting on your reply.

“I was so cold in it,” you whispered blankly, and saw the face of the vampire across from you contort. That hadn’t been the first thing you meant to say, but somehow that was the most important to you right now. That, and you didn’t want to explain your dream in front of them. You didn’t want to explain what had happened to you before Toussaint. Reluctantly, you quickly described what you could to Geralt. “I was walking outside in the dark towards someone, and something was stalking me, but I can never tell until it's too late.”

“You can _never_ tell?” You heard the frown in Geralt’s voice before you looked up and saw it on his face. Regis shifted uncomfortably, and your attention shot towards him, remembering.

 _Yes_ , you thought of his confession that morning in the grass, _Regis had had a dream, too_. About Amilie. Something lumpy was forming in your throat as he looked at the small building. Then Regis’ wide eyes slid to the side, meeting your gaze, knowingly. 

“Seriously?” Geralt cut the silence, his focus volleying between yourself and the older vampire. He crossed his arms and offered a hand to the air conversationally, “Guessing you had a dream, too, Regis? Care to share?”

Regis blinked.

“Don’t,” you realized that you were standing, suddenly, your hand outstretched above the white hot fire towards the vampire, “you don’t have to answer that.” 

Regis pursed his lips, his brow working. His eyes softened as they took you in. You didn’t want him to have to talk about her to everyone if he couldn’t handle that. For him to be in pain. You didn’t know what was right, or best, and you felt your eyes soften in a way that mirrored Regis’. Sitting, you felt Dettlaff’s hands guide you back to his body. 

Regis tore his eyes away from you, closing them for a moment, before he inhaled.

“I dreamt of Amilie, in our bedroom,” you looked up at him and saw that he was regarding a space in the distance that didn’t exist, “in Sodden. We made love.” 

His eyes unfocused, and you shifted uncomfortably at the thought of him having a dream as vivid as your own, last night. You had felt like you had _lived_ your dream. Tension was building in your now rising and falling chest. _Regis_. You wished you could have held him this morning.

Regis stirred, then, and his voice became distant, “but by the end of it, she was Maina.” 

Regis’ gaze returned to yours, and you froze. 

You were faintly aware of Dettlaff repositioning you protectively from the other vampire, as if Regis had cut you. The older vampire opened his mouth to say more.

 _“Choose your words wisely,”_ Dettlaff cut in, his voice had taken an unfamiliar shape as he spoke to his friend, and it was terrifyingly unlike the Dettlaff you knew.

But Regis wasn’t paying Dettlaff any mind, he was still absorbed in your eyes and face. You wanted to cry. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, not necessarily knowing for what.

“Maina...” Regis voice trailed off, as if he’d wanted to say more. His eyebrows were pinching upwards, “you felt cold?”

You nodded to the distance, and the four of you sat quietly for a small while, Dacreval’s small breaths sounding in your hand. 

“ _So_ ,” Geralt finally started, after giving everyone a little time. He looked to Regis, “Did you feel cold too?” 

The older vampire was staring into the fire, now. “Not at all,” he replied. “I felt happy, all things considered.” 

Your heart panged.

“Through its _entirety_ ,” Regis’ finished, looking at you severely.

Dettlaff relaxed, sending a wave of hot breath over the side of your cheek where his mouth hovered. His energy starting to feel more like himself again.

“Though I cannot necessarily describe it,” Regis shrugged, and Geralt began poking the fire with a stick, “this happiness. Nor have I conviction that it _was_ truly happiness.” 

The older vampire pinched his lip between his thumb and forefinger in thought. 

“Okay,” Geralt scratched his forehead and, arms across his middle, observed the small building shrouded in darkness. “Anyone wanna explain to me what the living fuck these dreams have to do with that cottage?”

Regis' head snapped from you to the witcher, “It was in both of our dreams. Have you dreamt?”

The white hair of the witcher swished as his head jerked backwards in surprise, “what? _Me_?”

“Clearly this place is an influence,” Regis’ tone was flat. You thought maybe he had picked up on the fact that you didn’t want to explain your dream in detail, either.

“Well _I_ don’t sleep,” Geralt shrugged.

“You _don’t_ sleep?” You asked, louder than you had intended, thinking of his silk Skelligen nightgown. Geralt tilted his head back slightly at you, quizzically. “Then _why_ did you not just _watch_ me when I was running a feve-”

“I _usually_ don’t sleep,” he interrupted, realization coloring his face and his eyes flickered to Dettlaff then back to you imploringly. “Listen, I was pretty exhausted those couple days, okay?”

“Were you _lying?_ ” you asked, amused now more than anything at the idea of Geralt making up an excuse to have a bit of creature comfort. Then terribly saddened by it. Geralt still looked alarmed, but Dettlaff sighed, bored. 

“I have a nose, witcher,” your mate’s voice was surprisingly relaxed. “I could smell you on her when I returned.” 

“It _was_ rather obvious...” Regis looked at Geralt as if he were stupid, and much less relaxed than Dettlaff, “She was even in your bed when I got there.”

“I mean, the sheets were worth it,” you chimed in, “and it helped to have someon-”

“You do not need to defend yourself,” Dettlaff’s deep, heady voice was in your ear, “you are perfect.” 

“Geralt, however,” Regis’ looked at the witcher expectantly.

“ _He_ does not need to defend himself, either,” Dettlaff’s voice was still in your ear, his teeth nibbling at you. 

“He _doesn’t?_ ” you were taken aback by the edge in Regis’ voice as he turned his eyes on Dettlaff. The tongue that lightly traced your ear slowed it’s pace before stopping altogether.

You looked back and forth between the two of them, then to Geralt, who was doing the same. 

_“He_ is not who I am concerned with right now, _Regis_ ,” Dettlaff warned stiffly, and, not understanding what exactly had just happened, Regis dropped it. Dettlaff’s handsome mouth kissed your ear, and the entire campsite relaxed, marginally.

“ _Well_ ,” Geralt said, sitting back, looking accusationally at Regis, “ _that_ was fun.” 

“So did you?” you asked. 

Geralt tossed up his arms, sitting forward, “Did I _what?_ ”

“ _Drea-am?_ ” you enunciated, giving him an apologetic look.

“Oh,” the witcher sat back, shrugging an apology your way, too. “No, I haven’t slept much since trying to keep you alive. I meditated last night, though.” 

“You did not meditate very well,” Dettlaff said, matter-of-factly, sitting up slightly from your body. You were surprised that his brow was furrowed. 

“What do you mean?” The witcher asked, genuinely intrigued. 

“You stirred,” your vampire’s voice inflection was difficult to place, “and _grumbled_.” 

Geralt’s thumb found his chin again and massaged it. Then he arched a brow at your dark haired vampire, “did _you_ dream?”

You felt Dettlaff’s body tighten next to you. 

“Have you become so comfortable with sleep that you can do so without Maina?” the sound of Regis’ voice pulled your attention to his facial expression, but you didn’t know what to make of either. 

“No,” Dettlaff replied, “though I did sleep last night.” 

You felt his arm tighten around you. 

“And I did dream.” 

There was a quality in Dettlaff’s voice that wasn’t at all comforting.

“Should I wake him up?” you asked everyone, holding up Dacreval. Geralt cut in before Dettlaff could answer. 

“I’d let him sleep, for now,” he sighed. “Listen, we don’t know what these dreams mean, and it might be nothing more than a coincidence, _okay?_ ” 

You didn’t think he sounded very confident. 

“Okay,” you responded. You were so tired, and now afraid of falling asleep. Dettlaff tightened around you, feeling that you were frightened. His energy was protective and defensive. 

A large mouth kissed your cheek, and you felt the long forefinger of your higher vampire snake under your chin, lifting your face to his, and your lips met. He kissed you passionately, filling you with ease and desire...and for a moment you had forgotten the others. When he detached his face from yours, he assured you, “Regis and I will sleep next to you.” 

Regis shifted, “Beg your pardon but I’d really rather not sleep at all if it can be helped,” he eyed you, apologetically, “and distancing myself from Maina wou-”

“It was not a question, Regis,” Dettlaff’s tone silenced the other vampire. “Besides, I thought you felt _happy_ in your dream?” 

Regis’ mouth opened to say something, but it snapped shut, and he shrugged. His right hand found his face again, pinching it on his lip. “I suppose there _is_ something I am rather curious about…”

“And what could _that_ be?” Geralt asked. 

“That I saw Maina in my dream last night.” 

“Yeah, we know that you two were-”

“No,” Regis interrupted, “I saw her before that. Outside the cottage. A shadow _was_ stalking her.” 

“A shadow?” you asked, feeling cold. 

“Why did you not help her?” Dettlaff sounded unhappy. 

“Well I didn’t realize it was _her,_ ” Regis scoffed at Dettlaff, seeming annoyed, “or else I _would_ have. You aren’t the only one who happens to care about Maina, Dettlaff, but as it _were_ I was a little distracted by the fact that Amilie was _alive_ and in my _bed_.”

You swallowed. 

Geralt sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees, “Did Maina get _hurt_?”

Regis’ face went a little white, “I don’t know,” his eyes went to the witcher, “I didn’t get a chance to see.”

Geralt shrugged, “Well I don’t like the sound of _that_.” 

You _really_ didn’t want to talk about your dream anymore, and you were starting to get a little annoyed that Regis was sharing it, but you also didn’t want them to worry.

“I never get caught by it,” you offered them, “so don’t worry.”

"Then what did you mean by ' _I can't tell until it's too late'?_ " Geralt asked. _God damn it,_ you thought, not looking at him.

“Maina,” Regis’ gaze was on you, now, and you felt your body tighten again, involuntarily. Your arousal was becoming increasingly distracting, and you were no longer certain if your aggression was completely about the sudden lack of privacy you were feeling because of him. His forehead tensed as he asked, “How often do you have this dream?”

You sighed, looking down at Dacreval. “I don’t have it _anymore_.” 

“Evidently, you _do._ ” You heard Regis’ voice from across the fire. Staring down at Dacreval’s tiny, sleeping body made you want to cry. How was he so good when you felt so bad?

“Maina,” Dettlaff tightened his grip on you, and you felt his energy ebb and flow. His head was lowered near your ear, again, “Are you okay?”

You could feel tears in your eyes, but you shook them. “No.” 

“You can tell me about this,” Dettlaff’s mouth was speaking against the side of your head, it felt tight...even pinched. “But you do not need to talk about this, now.”

“Listen,” Geralt said, “I think we’ll be fine. I’ll meditate lightly, keep an eye on everyone and you can sleep.” He sighed. “But I’m definitely having a word with Yen when all this is over.” 

“Speaking of which,” Regis chimed in, “have we decided _where_ Artorius Vigo is? Where to look? Anything?” 

Dettlaff shook his head at the older vampire. 

“I was afraid of that.” He turned his gaze to Geralt, “You watch over us while we sleep, and tomorrow we'll create a plan."

You perked up at that...it sounded like Regis would be sleeping next to the pair of you. He noticed, and shrugged, “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Maina, but I am exhausted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mentions of sex, some language, some aggression, kissing
> 
> Geralt's sleeping habits are based off of the game and not off the books in this. He did sleep because he was tired when Maina had a fever, however.


	36. Krael'ef

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt can't meditate properly. Meanwhile, Dettlaff, Maina, and Regis meet up in their dreams...but are they dreams? (Expletive deleted) hits the fan.
> 
> This is, how you say, a major chapter. Read with patience, I guess?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: graphic depictions of sex, descriptions of corpses, some violence, broken bones, smacking one's face against marble *see the end note for transcript on a conversation that happens during sex if you don't want to read it...two characters needed to have a conversation and I just flat out forgot until I was writing the sex (again). No idea if the smut is good brain was off fingers wrote it.
> 
> I know what I said! I was gonna take a break but I got a good night's sleep last night and read a really great chapter from someone else's FF today and I couldn't resist writing this chapter. And it was too windy for me to hop on my bicycle and ride like a cool bicycle rider. See end notes for other stuff on chapter. 
> 
> **THIS CHAPTER IS LONG SO FEEL FREE TO READ IT SLOWLY or break it up! I just didn't do that because I am a MONSTER! (What a note lmao.)
> 
> Enjoy and thanks so much! Next chapter might be a few days but it depends on rest. Restraint what is it where does one obtain it I have the answers to neither of those questions. Night, y'all.

  
  


Geralt watched as the three of them laid like an odd mound of bodies on the ground and sighed. He was really having difficulty meditating. 

_-_-_-

It was cold and dark in the cottage. In the moonlight outside beyond the window, Regis glanced at the treeline. It was so cozy this time of year, he thought, as he watched the breeze flow through the branches and take with them any remaining leaves, expired and ready to find the earth. He turned to his notebook and, taking the quill from the inkwell and tapping it against his outstretched finger, continued writing. 

> _...much of what we know about Unaeros was lost in the Second Migration pre-dating modern history. Most Northern Races of human still, to this day, contribute the deaths of the migration to Lilit, or known by Eastern Human Races as Niya. She is apparently a messiah and a devil all at once, but we shall get into that later. We are lucky that the book Af’al’al was found and adopted by the Wozgor, as it depicted all we know of Dauk mythology. In the Af’al’al, we can find that Unaeros is alive and well…_

Regis stopped, and his head turned around so quickly he thought it might roll from his body. “Amilie,” he asked the air, but the woman was nowhere to be found. Only her small, handled jade mirror on the bedside table. Regis felt himself deflate, but was relieved. In fact, he felt without the usual weight he normally carried. The older vampire realized that he was not awake, and then, consciously, that he had been _writing_.

He felt himself tense at the desk and, turning his head, looked down at what he had written. It was surprising to him that he should be writing about Dauk mythology, and, putting a finger to his lower lip, before pinching the bridge of his nose, contemplated what that might mean. He skimmed over the words several times, before he had a feeling. It was not a smell, or a sound or a touch. He felt himself being pulled, in some manner or fashion, towards the outside of the cottage. 

His heart began beating faster as he remembered Maina being stalked in his last dream, and looked out the window. He couldn’t see her anywhere and quickly made for the door.

  
  


You walked along the dark forest to a clear field, wondering where the bodies were. There were always so many bodies strewn about by now, but you only half remembered that. The knowledge was hidden away in your subconscious. The knowledge that there were usually, always, so many bodies by now. Always the same faces of the same dead. Faces you knew, frozen in horror, with nothing to show that they were expired save for the blood that ran from their eyes, and from their noses, their mouths, and their ears. The blood that was usually always dried onto them, the whites of their eyes yellowing and glossy. Screaming and confused. Faces of the witch hunting guards and the many innocents they had taken captive- many of them friends. The guards’ faces, you admitted, were never difficult for you to look at.

Ahead of you the gray shadow tried to cut behind trees to escape you, but you wouldn’t let it. You had to get to it. You did not know why. It moved in a way that was unnatural, you noticed this every time. It glided across the ground easily as if it weren’t actually making contact. It sent a shiver down your spine, but you had to get to it. You knew it was its fault. It had to be. There were answers in that cloaked gray figure that shone dimly in the night...there were endings.

Behind you came the sound of a twig breaking and you froze. Your hackles turning up, before you realized that you were now in the middle of the dark field, the full moon rising over the trees surrounding you. It was quiet, you thought. _Too_ quiet. 

You realized that something was hunting you, and you looked to the gray floating figure but it was gone. Something in your mind was trying to inform you that you knew this place. You looked around you, wondering where your hunter was, but saw nothing except for a small cottage, with one window that glowed in it, and the head of a stranger inside of it. 

Then it came back to you. 

“Regis,” you whispered and, hackles still raised, started sprinting for the door. 

  
  


You reached the cottage, threw open the door and immediately thudded into Regis’ sturdy body. Before you even had the chance to bounce off of him you felt his arms wrap around your torso, keeping you against him tautly, his breath in your hair, his chest rising and falling beneath you. You felt your own heartbeat quicken as you wrapped your hands around him, too, clasping him closely, feeling nearly hysterical. 

“I don’t know what that was,” you said, your voice muffled into his chest. 

“Neither do I,” he replied, his low-hanging voice husky and thick in your ear. “Maina,” he whispered, “I think this might be more than just a dream.” 

To your dismay, his arms began to unwrap around you and you pulled him back. He swallowed as he allowed you to hold him once more. You felt, for a moment, a tingling in your body that ebbed and flowed, and spiked, just then. It was fiery and vast - it felt dark and aimless, before it simmered. You held him tighter and felt it swirl, then you felt Regis’ arms around you again, and a glimmer of something soft and reassuring flitted through the new energy you felt around you. 

_Was this energy Regis'?_ You wondered, and looked up at him in awe. As you did so, the energy crashed against itself, and the light warmth that trickled atop of it’s waters only penetrated the abysmal depths below it so slightly...But the light was still there, as if it were fighting the turmoil beneath it. 

Regis looked down at you, eyes gentle and brimming with something you thought was close to hope, and he cocked his head at you, looking at you curiously, before he shook it altogether. 

“Maina,” he started again, breaking the embrace. His hand slid down your arm again, as he took his first steps away from you, before enclasping your hand in his and bringing you to the desk against the front wall of the cottage. You felt your eyes flicker to the bed in the corner of the room and shivered, becoming fully aware and uncomfortable that this is where his dream had occurred. The large hand that held yours inside it pulled you gently further to the desk, and you felt his other large hand on the small of your back, reassuringly. 

“Dear,” Regis’ voice made you tear your eyes away from the bed and, shaking your head, addressed the papers on the desk he was pointing at. They were nothing more than scribbles to you at first, but as Regis’ let go of your hand and let a long vampiric finger caress the nonsense on the parchment, words formed in the ink atop them. 

> _...much of what we know about Unaeros was lost in the Second Migration pre-dating modern history. Most Northern Races of human still, to this day, contribute the deaths of the migration to Lilit, or known by Eastern Human Races as Niya. She is apparently a messiah and a devil all at once, but we shall get into that later. We are lucky that the book Af’al’al was found and adopted by the Wozgor, as it depicted all we know of Dauk mythology. In the Af’al’al, we can find that Unaeros is alive and well…_

“Well,” you said, exhaling as you finished the text, “you definitely have better handwriting in your dreams than in the waking world.” 

Regis eyes looked at you incredulously before shaking his head, and you couldn’t tell if it was at all out of disappointment, but the hand he had placed on the small of your back brought you in closer to him, and the energy you felt glowed a little as he did so. You felt yourself wanting to sigh, and as you looked at him regard the parchment once more, you found that your eyes were looking at his well groomed chops, then his jaw, and the subtle curve of his neck. His sweet scent of herbs tapped you slightly, and... _it would be nice now,_ you thought, _to rest my head on his shoulder._

“Do you recall the Perimanibus?” Regis broke your train of thought, and you straightened yourself. 

_The Perimanibus_. A chill ran down your spine. Regis turned his head and saw your reaction, and something very close to anger crossed his expression before his arm tightened around you again, before relaxing. 

“They are a part of Dauk mythology,” Regis went on, “the information on which is rather obsolete and not well maintained. They were one of the first groups of humans to settle here after the conjunction of the spheres.”

He frowned down at the piece of parchment, and you frowned up at him, wondering what any of this was supposed to mean. “ _..._ So?”

Regis put his lip between his forefinger and thumb, rolling it between his long vampiric fingers. He was so close to you, right now, and he felt different. He felt similar to how he used to feel. He looked down at you and, seeing that you were going to need a thorough explanation, motioned for you to sit on the bed.

You looked at it and recoiled from the place it stood, but he took your arms in his hands again tightly, and gazed into your eyes with more encouragement than you thought he was possible of giving you. 

“Maina it is okay,” he said, “the bed does not bite, and what happened here was neither,” he swallowed, thickly, “my Amilie nor was it really you.”

His finger ran under your chin and you were taken aback by the strength in his words. Suddenly you wondered if this wasn’t just some figment of your imagination, this vampire in front of you, and felt you had to ask, “Is this truly you, Regis?”

The eyes that gazed down on you widened, and his lips parted. Then his eyebrows pulled up and together in the middle as if they were trying to compete for their right to his forehead. He looked pained, and desperate, and you realized that perhaps your question had within it more than one meaning. You felt the energy rumble.

“Yes, Maina,” Regis tongue slid over a part of his lower lip before he bit it, “I can’t begin to explain how much this is, in fact, me.” 

He closed his eyes tightly, and, not knowing what to say exactly, followed his notion for you to sit on the bed. The vampire took a deep breath and opened his eyes, but after doing so, didn’t begin. 

“You were telling me that this place might be more than just a dream,” you offered, and he shook his head, returning to the room. 

“Yes,” he started, “thank you.”

Then he put his hands behind his back, and began pacing. 

“We are in each other's dreams...or what we think are dreams.” He turned on his heel as he reached the desk and window, “In Dauk mythology, there is a god of dreams named _Unaeros,_ as my notes depict. He had several brothers to aid him with these dreams, but I digress.” He scratched his neck with his hand, and turned again to walk back the way he came, as if still sussing out what his own thoughts meant. 

“So the Dauk god of dreams being in your notes makes you think that this _isn’t_ a dream?” You asked flatly, as that didn’t make a lot of sense to you. Regis shook his head at the floor under his footsteps before reaching the desk again and looking down at it. 

“No,” he said, skimming the notes and turning around to pace the length once more, sparing a glance out the window, “because I also mention the Wozgor, the second migration, and Lilit.”

You felt your brow furrow. This was, in all honesty, making no sense to you. Regis glanced up at you and saw the confusion on your face and nodded to himself, as if reminding himself that you weren’t, in fact, four hundred some odd years old and had a propensity for reading everything. 

“Most of Dauk mythology was lost in the second migration, yes?” He walked over to the desk and handed his notes to you, as if he were your teacher. You eyed them, reading the line where it clearly stated the same. You rolled your eyes and nodded. 

“And it was adopted by the Wozgor. Lilit is not in Wozgor mythology, though, only in Dauk mythology.” You nodded despite the fact that you were unaware of either. You looked at him puzzled, and he sighed. 

“Unaeros is known as the god of dreams, Maina,” a frown started to appear on his face, “but that is only because that is what the Wozgor depicted him as after the Dauk died off in the second migration.” He was pacing again, “Lilit is only in Dauk mythology, which means that I should be interpreting Unaeros as the god he actually is.” 

You felt your face squinting up, looking at the older vampire. 

“And what is he the god of?” you asked him, feeling your body tighten on the bed. 

Regis looked out the window, eyes in the distance, “A place that you, Maina, shouldn’t be able to enter on your own,” he swallowed, “at least not while coming out living on the other end.” 

You felt yourself get cold, _how long had you been coming here? You have had this dream how many times?_

“Is that all you know about it?” you asked him, and Regis looked at you apologetically before walking over and sitting next to you on the bed. 

“If my hunch is correct, this is a place thought to be outside of time,” he didn’t notice your eyes getting wide, and you felt yourself scoot closer to him, until your head was on his chest and his arm was around you again, “A place outside of time that most can only gain access to through magic, or while asleep. I’ve read about them in many mythologies of humans in particular, perhaps because they sleep so often and so deeply, but my memory of the details are…” he sighed, obviously frustrated with himself, “fragmentary.”

You shivered, looking up at him, and you felt his arm tighten around you before he looked down into your eyes. He looked worried, but... _better_ . “Why are we here _now?_ ” 

“That is what disturbs me,” his face frowned, slightly, but his eyes were still filling themselves with you. The tingling sensation came again- the energy, the warmth coming off of him split the dark chasm beneath it and, If only for a moment, you could have sworn you saw it reflected in his eyes. Then the pool of dark began again as he continued, “Maina,” he said, “what happens here are odd reflections of reality, they are telling of the waking world. This place is dangerous.” He shifted, looking to the window, then back to you, “I can feel it.”

You were certain you could feel it too. 

“I am acutely aware of your presence here,” he said flatly. “Inveigled by you, more so than I normally am. You are _weighty,_ even.” You thought you could relate to his words exactly, but then he sounded almost afraid. “You luminesce similarly to that of a candle in the dark, and I don’t know if others here can feel the same.”

You stiffened, “ _Others?_ ”

Regis’ eyes flickered to the window, “we’re not alone, if this is indeed the place I think it is,” he leaned his head down towards yours to get a better look at the darkness outside of the small, lit cottage, coming very close to where your face was, before stating, “but I think for now, you and I find ourselves relatively safe and unnoticed.” 

He was so close to you on the bed now, as you sat, with your feet curled underneath you and his jaw filling your vision. You could smell him again. Why did he seem so much better, here? 

Why could you feel his energy?

Regis shifted his arm around you, and you watched and smelled his face as he turned it to look down at yours. His eyes regarding you with such reverence, you couldn’t look away from him as his hand went to your jaw, and you heard his breath catch when he went to kiss you, and you let him. His lips were tender, and working, and meaningful, his thumb massaged the side of your face as you heard him quietly speak “Maina.” 

A pain was growing in your heart, however, and you broke the embrace. You could feel tears in your eyes as you wiped your face of them. Your chest was heaving. _Why was he doing this to me?_

“Regis this hurts,” you said, sniffling, “this really, really, hurts.” 

He’d been so distant and difficult...to just have him be caring wasn’t something that you could handle, you thought, knowing that you would most likely have to face a very different Regis soon. When you looked up at the older vampire, he was looking into your eyes pleadingly. Then, as if remembering what the real world was like, he soured somewhat. 

“It hurts me, too.” Regis stated. You knew this, of course. Then the vampire let go of you and sat up, stiffly, and you were saddened by the thought that you had ruined your happy Regis, but how else were you supposed to feel? Regis was looking at the floor, then his hands, when he spoke again - his voice thick and uncertain. Yet it sounded wispy and hardly there.

“It is easier here, for some reason, for me to pretend that I haven’t fallen in love with a woman who only feels what little she does for me because there are traces of her mate left in my body.”

He closed his eyes. You felt your heart drop, and your eyes went wide. Looking at the vampire sitting on the bed next to you, who had been so _biting_ lately… Your throat was dry. _How could he feel this way?_ You became painfully aware of the fact that you never really told him how you felt about him, and of the fact that your chest was hopping up and down. 

“I can feel it dwindling, Maina. Dettlaff’s presence in my body,” he said, staring forward, “every time I regenerate I feel less and less of him, and the more I feel like myself, the more I…” He stopped, and his head hung from his shoulders. “The more I fall in love with you.” 

“Regis,” you felt yourself going to him, but he recoiled. 

“Where will that leave me when I no longer have my debt to him?” he asked, looking you in the eyes. You felt your heart pang. “When you no longer feel his influence on me?”

At this last question, you cocked your head a bit at him. 

“Regis,” you started, wondering what influence he was talking about, “I don’t think I understand what you mean. I don’t feel any influence of Dettlaff on you.”

Did he think that you could sense his energy like you could Dettlaff’s? How could he even know about that? You looked at him in awe, thinking that he was dangerously too intelligent and too stupid for his own good, but probably just too intelligent. Much too intelligent...and yet so _blind._

He was immediately defensive, “Amilie could sense me, and she was intoxicated by it, Maina,” he sat up further, “I’ve had a human Acern Ara. I am fully acquainted with its inner workings.” 

Then you were fairly certain you did feel his energy again, float up.

“Regis, I’ve never felt your energy before,” you stated blankly, but were also intrigued that Amilie could sense him, too. You always thought that was because of your abilities, not some mumbo jumbo vampire phenomena. You frowned at that, you frowned at this entire thing. Was _this_ the reason Yen had told you to watch for your dreams? You were beginning to wonder if you knew anything in life, and were becoming more and more wrapped up in your thoughts when you noticed that Regis was staring at you. 

He swallowed, and pitched his head. “What do you mean you’ve never felt my energy before?”

You could feel your eyebrows furrow as you stared back at him, “I mean up until what was literally a few moments ago in this very cabin, I never felt an _inkling_ of anything relatively _Dettlaff-_ esque come off you, or anything at _all_ for that matter. I’ve been in the dark, Regis, and I don’t think you know how it feels to fall in love with someone who won’t tell you why they don’t seem to like you anymore.” 

Regis looked at you unbelievingly, his nostrils flaring, deep eyes alarmed and filling themselves with every inch of you.

“Did you say _in love_ with me?” he asked, blinking.

“Regis of course I-”

You hadn’t finished confirming it when Regis’ lips met yours. He started kissing you as if he’d needed you, been starved of you - he was lifting you up with his large hands and placing you on top of him where he sat in his haste. A hand came up and held the back of your head to his lips as you started to kiss him back, realizing that you’d been starved of him, too. Your hands went to his face as you kissed him back, then to his neck, then to his shoulders before you started unbuttoning his shirt without knowing whether or not that was a good idea. His hands were undoing your own armor and not nearly fast enough, the two of you broke your embrace, finally. 

“I am so sorry,” he said, throwing off his vest so that it flew across the room and undoing his shirt.

“So am I,” you replied, thinking of what you’d left unsaid to him as you quickly undid your pants. You wanted him badly. You didn’t care at this point in time. You just wanted him.

“Don’t be s-” Regis was interrupted as you collided with him, and he fell back onto the bed with his pants still part way on as you straddled him, kissing him. You felt his legs underneath you, ridding himself of the burden of his last piece of fabric as his hands went under your ass. “-orry,” he finished the sentence into your lips. “I’m the,” he breathed, “complete,” he kissed you “ _fool_.”

“I can forgive you if you try hard enough,” you replied, breaking the embrace and the hands that were around your ass pulled you up quickly. Regis perched you on his face and started licking you, taking you in as his hands caressed your waist, your tits, the rest of your upper body. You held onto one of his arms for stabilization as you felt yourself wanting to fall back before he propped you up with them. His tongue was doing circles around your clitoris as he sucked and popped up from it now and then, dipping into your depths and moaning into your lips. You puckered and bucked from it, and looked down at him to see that his eyes were closed tightly in concentration or arousal, before he opened them to meet yours. They were on fire, and he let his tongue stiffen before picking up his pace, staring at you all the while. Taking in your every move, again like you couldn’t be real. As he licked and sucked and stared at you, you tried to not break from it, but felt your eyes close and your head fell backwards. You moved your hips slightly on his mouth as you neared orgasm, “Regis,” you screamed, “Re _gis_.” 

You felt your high part yourself as you started to cum, engulfing you, and heard Regis’ voice fill your ears with your name. Before you had even finished he pushed himself upwards as he slid you down his torso, looking into your eyes and began kissing your mouth again, rubbing you with his hand. You wanted him, and his hands were feeling you as if for the first time in their desperation. You perched on top of Regis, and you felt him align with yourself. 

“Regis,” you remembered that you had to speak to him about _exactly_ what you were doing, “Regis maybe you should- _uh-n’t_ ,” you felt yourself tighten as he slowly pushed his cock inside of you, filling you with his head and shaft at a pace that teased you, before hitting the back of your pussy, making you yap. You felt his arms wrap around your midsection and pull you close to him, kissing the side of your face. The harder he pushed inside you, the tighter he held you to him before he let up, letting out a noise cloaked in pleasure. 

"I never thought you _actually_ wanted that," he exhaled, breathing wildly, he pulled you in closer again, and again you felt the head of his hard cock push its way to a spot that made you call out his name, causing him to falter. He cocked his head at you, glossy eyed from desire, " _Do_ you?"

Regis didn’t bring himself out of you, instead, he waited for your answer as he pulsed deep inside of you, making you constrict around him involuntarily to the beat of your pulse. His deep eyes watching your every reaction, igniting in arousal from the sight of you loving his dick. It was turning him crazy and he was looking at you disbelievingly once more. You couldn’t help but to roll your hips and moan, “Fuck, Regis,” you rolled them again, “holy fuck, _REgis_ ,” you kissed him like you couldn’t get enough of him, rolling against the fat head of his cock inside you, making him quake, making him leave you slightly before pushing deep in you again and letting you roll your hips on him once more, getting yourself off with his member, having you squeal his name without intending to. Your arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, wanting to take him in completely. "Yes," you breathed in his ear, "I _do_." You rolled your hips more. 

“Maina,” he put his hands on your waist, he was breathing heavily, “I thought,” sweat was glistening on his facial features, “you don’t actually mean to tell me you want,” he twitched inside of you, and he moaned “ _fuck-_ to have,” his voice was getting high pitched and he bucked, not being able to take the sensation. "Oh _god_ , Maina," he thrust, voice cracking. Seeing him trying to speak during this was so much to take. 

"Of course I do," you whispered and felt Regis _twitch_ in your cunt and his eyes rolled. He pushed his hard cock into you, and started fucking you harder. “Fff-euh,” he gasped. The expression on his face was sending you over the edge, and your mouth ran to his, each of your tongues pushing and sliding against the other.

“Cum in me,” you whispered as you tore your face away, and felt Regis’ hands grab your waist, before they slid around your torso and brought you in again, holding you to his body, longing for your closeness, you felt his cock enter you deeper and deeper with each thrust, his pace quickening, his hands tightly on you. You felt his breath against your ear and a hand go to the back of your head, forcing your face to his so he could kiss you while he gasped for air, humming from the pleasure as he desperately tried to kiss you through it. He started to call your name against your mouth in a voice that was hardly his own, and then he stilled, almost painfully deep inside you, his body taut against your own, pushing you marginally up off the bed with his hips, but down into him with his hand- causing you to squeal as his cum spilt into you before he let out a final thrust that _hurt_ and relaxed. Loosening his grip on your body, his dick beginning to soften as it twitched one last time.

“Well,” he said as you let yourself fall down onto the mattress beside him, his arm immediately snaked underneath your neck between head and your shoulder, pulling you into him, putting his mouth to your forehead, “I have to admit,” he started, his lips kissing you between the words that he spoke, “that I may have misjudged the situation, slightly.” 

You frowned, remembering, “you’ve hurt my feelings a lot since last night, Regis,” it was difficult to get the words out, and when you did, felt the familiar sensation of wanting to cry. Your voice becoming froggy, “can you please not do that to me again?”

Beside your body you could feel his chest rise and fall, “I didn’t know that you actually cared about me,” he sounded ashamed. “That I wasn’t some play thing.” 

You wanted to laugh, “god, you made me feel that way today.” 

“I’m ashamed to admit I was jealous, and-”

“Only a lot worse,” you weren’t finished yet, and heard the pitch in your voice change without meaning to, and you started to cry, “you made me feel like you wished you never met me. Like that vampire woman in that note.” 

You couldn’t help it, you started to cry, you started to shake, and Regis pulled you in closer to him, holding you near. He rubbed your shoulder with the arm that was snaked around you, and you felt his other arm run up your back and over you, to where his face was resting. You felt his chin rub against your temple as he spoke. 

“I am so, inexplicably sorry, my dear Maina.” His voice was dry. 

It wasn’t even that you needed his apology, even though you did. You were worried that after this you would return to the waking world and he would be mean to you again. That he would be distant and incapable. 

“What will you be like when we are back?” you asked, your voice tangled in its emotion. Regis made a noise that sounded like he was in pain.

“I’m not sure,” he replied, “but I will never treat you that way again.”

You started to cry harder, wondering why he couldn’t have just not done it at all in the first place. 

“You don’t have to trust me, Maina,” he started, “but I promise you that I will not treat you that way again.” He swallowed, “Please.”

You let yourself hug him back, and the energy you felt from him seemed to relax as you did so. It had been so tempestuous before, where now it rolled easily. You thought, for now, you would believe Emiel Regis, as he held you. He must have felt you relax, because he sighed into your hair and rolled him on top of you so you could look down at him, and he up to you. 

“So,” he began, arching an eyebrow, “what on earth would occasion the desire for a young, beautiful woman such as yourself to mate with an old and broken vampire?”

He sounded like he was kidding, but you didn’t believe, for a moment, that he actually was. If this was part of what he was telling himself all the time, you couldn’t blame him for not feeling well. 

“Because he is extraordinary.” You replied, looking into his eyes. You knew your expression was softening when Regis pursed his lips and looked away from you, and his hand started rubbing your back. “Dettlaff believes the same, by the way.”

You didn’t know if now was the right time to bring up Dettlaff, but Regis pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes closed tightly, before taking your head to his chest and whispering “thank you,” into your hair. 

  
  


Dettlaff was walking down a familiar corridor that he, to his knowledge, had never seen before. He did not know it, but yet, it knew him. It welcomed him. It was dark and blustery, and drafty. It looked unlike anything he could remember ever having seen. When he reached the end of it, he found a door and, smelling the air, walked inside. Closing the door behind him he saw a large black desk, and a woman, holding a baby. She looked up and towards the door, but was staring through the large vampire before her. Dettlaff van der Eretein froze, and wanted nothing but to be out of that room. He turned from her and fled the space, back out into the corridor. 

He strutted aimlessly, but alerted until he reached another, yet the woman was inside of it again. She did not have her baby with her this time. This time, he swore she saw him. His heartbeat quickened in his chest and he slammed it shut, simultaneously wanting to put his weight on it but also to run. So he ran, now, until ahead of him he saw a deep, dark figure and slowed to a halt. He tried to turn into smoke, but couldn’t, he ran to the next door, and the woman was waiting for him, smiling her horrible smile. He slammed the door too late and the woman’s white hand lodged itself in the door frame. What should have broken it by force was nothing at all to her, and she flung it open. 

Dettlaff’s back found the wall, when suddenly he felt it. Felt her, and it was surprisingly powerful. The woman had not noticed yet. 

She took another step before her eyes got wide, realizing what the sensation she felt was. _She_ was coming. The horrible woman hissed widely and slammed shut the door- as she did the entire corridor changed into something completely different. Dettlaff looked down the hall, once dark and drafty, looking for the tall dark figure. He thought he’d known the figure... but it couldn’t be him. The hallway he was now in was lit, and beautiful. Fanciful marble floors spanned the ground and the architecture spun in infinity, with beautiful blue hues and white spires, lit by candles in the night. 

Dettlaff raised himself up from the floor where he had sunk, breathing now. He tried to turn into smoke but again could not. He tried to change form and saw that his claws did grow, albeit painfully, and felt better. He felt her, again. She was powerful. Not the evil woman, but Maina. He turned and walked to the place where the hall opened into a large room, and to the window there, ignoring the magnificent red and royal blue tapestries that hung from the wall, and the decadent flowers too brilliant in the candlelight. He followed the feeling of her, becoming ever so formidable. In the distance of the countryside, he saw a small building. The cottage, he thought, as he searched it appraisingly. She was there. His heart fluttered, then became hard and afraid for her. He began transforming into something large and gruesome before suddenly, he no longer felt her pull come from the cottage. The large dark vampire turned his head upwards at the ceiling. 

It was coming from some floor far above him.

  
  


“So we can’t just fall asleep here and wake up- er, _go back_ to the waking world?” you sighed, “...Can I just call it the waking world, please?” 

You tightened the drawstring of your breeches, clarifying to Regis everything he had explained to you thus far. 

“Of course you can call it that,” he replied, kissing you on the shoulder where you hadn’t yet strapped on your breastplate. He had already fully dressed himself, evidently being much quicker at buckling and fastening than you were, and had now taken to distracting you by means of being handsy and kissy. As if he were making up for the hours since he _should_ have been doing this. “I very much doubt sleeping here will take us back _anywhere_. Not that I’ve any confidence that sleeping here is a possibility.” 

He kissed your neck, again, and his hands went to finish tying your breeches, before he placed your breast plate over your head, and you let him. 

“Here,” Regis said gently onto your jaw as he started doing up the laces of your chest armor effortlessly. You felt yourself feeling light headed from him doing so, just from him being close. You felt like maybe you could clarify all of this at a different time, that right now you should just bask in the amount of tenderness he was showing you. You felt yourself twitch at the thought. “I believe we have to find an exit to leave.” 

“What if someone just wakes us up in the real world? Or, other world? Or oth-”

“Maina, please,” you heard him stifle a chuckle, “you can call it the waking world if you’d like, my dear.” 

Your insides ignited at the sound of his chuckle. He was halfway through your outer armor, and you had a hunch that he was taking his time doing yours up.

“I suspect that, _were_ someone to wake us,” you could hear a smile forming on his face through his voice, “in the real, or other, or waking, or walki-”

“ _Regis_ ,” you interrupted. You couldn’t help but giggle at it, though, despite how much you were biting your lip. 

“You could say my name more, if you’d like,” he added, hinting. “Dear god, Maina,” you felt his breath near your ear, “am I allowed to fashion you protective wear that _isn’t_ adorned in five thousand buckles and nonsense? Currently, I’m burning to fuck you again, but I fear if we do I might die of old age before you’re properly undressed and dressed.” 

You lost it at the thought of _him_ dying of old age, “Regis!”

He moaned at his name on your lips, and turned you around so that he was doing up your front. “How I’ve managed to _not_ foresee what you laughing my name would do to me... is beyond my understanding.”

“Focus!” you barked, allowing yourself to laugh at him, and he lifted an eyebrow at you, nostrils flaring. You couldn’t tell if he was serious...and something about that made you agree: you needed less buckles. _Focus,_ you hear your internal orders mirror the ones you gave your older vampire. “You were saying?”

“Were someone to wake us I think we would exit this place, yes,” he finished buckling the top of your armor, and took a moment to let his eyes dance over your body, “unfortunately we don’t know if there are any discrepancies in terms of _time_ , and how it works here. How long are you willing to wait here in this cottage?” He looked at you, “It could be _years_.” 

You frowned. Regis put a long, vampiric finger under your chin and tilted your face up to his. You looked at him, his chin, his mouth where it sat, then to his handsome aquiline nose, his facial hair, then to his eyes, which were already drinking yours in. You felt his palm on the side of your face, and his thumb rubbing it. _How long would he wait here in this cottage?_ You wondered, and thought you knew what _his_ answer would be. A thought occurred to you. 

“Do you think Dettlaff is here?” you asked him. You saw Regis’ chest begin to rise and fall. Before you could say anything else his lips met yours again, and his large hands clasped around your arms. You felt yourself ignite, and felt his energy clash against you. You felt like putty in his hands at this moment. Then he let you go, and he looked nearly sad. 

Regis shook his head as if trying to shake himself to sense, again. He looked to the window, “if he’s here, my dear, he is on his way to you already. This, I can assure you.” 

“So we wait?” you asked. 

“He’ll be able to find us even if we move, considering the way _you_ _feel_ presently. You’re very nearly a _magnet_ , Maina.” His nostrils flared, “More so than usual.” 

Regis went to the door making for you to follow, but you held up a finger, checking around the room. You didn’t want to leave anything in here. You weren’t one hundred percent certain how this place worked, but leaving traces of yourself was not something you would do intentionally…

Your thoughts slowed as the bedside table caught your eye. 

“That mirror,” you cocked your head at it. It was beautiful and jade in color. _What was it doing here?_ You wondered, and you realized that you were now standing above it, looking down at it. 

“Maina…” the tone in Regis’ voice gave you a chill. We’re there four of you in its reflection? That was odd to see. Four of you staring back. You felt Regis standing up against the back of you, his arm around your middle, “I’m not so-”

You reached out your hand and felt the jade mirror, but as you touched it, the cottage around began to morph, and you felt yourself being pulled backwards, or forwards, before light encompassed you and you landed on top of Regis in a dimly lit, fanciful room. A beautiful room. 

In fact a more elegant room than any you’d ever seen. 

“Are you okay, Maina?” Regis asked, sounding worried, his hands searching your body as he sat the two of you up. 

“Yes,” you replied, “are you?”

The older vampire smirked at you, but then his expression changed to something you really enjoyed seeing, despite the fact that you couldn’t place it, and his eyes danced off your features again, before he cleared his throat and stood, extending a hand to you, looking around. 

“Well, this place seems pretty...nice,” you said, and Regis snorted at the intentional understatement that currently echoed off the brilliant slabs of marble surrounding you. The room was incredibly large, and had a bed the size of four of what the cottage’s mattress would make. Regis’ eyes got wide when he looked at it, and stayed that way when he looked at you, causing you to laugh. The two of you walked over to the window and, staring out of it, saw the small cottage in the distance, and looked at each other with genuinely wide eyes. 

“Look,” he said, pointing out the window, you could see parts of the building you were standing in surround itself, and realized it wasn’t merely a building. “It seems as though we’re finally in that ridiculous palace after all.” 

“How can that even be possible?” you asked, and Regis shrugged. 

“I think, perhaps, Mr. Vigo is a more interesting man than I had been made aware. We’re still not in the waking world, you should be aware of,” Regis’ closed his eyes and sighed, “I truly would like a word with Yennefer as well.”

You looked out the window at the expanse of blue-white spires surrounding you, before returning to the middle of the room, Regis trailing you in thought.

You turned to him and saw his brows got tense, then he shook his head. “I think I can feel him here.” 

“Who?” you asked, his energy becoming thick and slow moving. 

Regis looked to you, “Dettlaff.”

Your face scrunched up, “that’s odd, isn’t it?” 

“What is odd?” Regis asked, flatly. 

“I can’t feel him.” 

The older vampire’s head cocked slightly to the side, and his brows turned down. “Yes. It is.”

  
  


*~*

Geralt was trying to meditate as much as he possibly could, but couldn’t. Not for the life of him. Staring down at the three of them, sleeping perfectly in their weird little covenous ball snuggling, he pet Dacreval, who was flying around him in the dark, making tiny high pitched noises to see. Something was prickling at the back of the witcher’s neck. It’d been bothering him all night. It was bothering him _right now_. What’s more, a ringing started in his ear as if he had contracted some sort of tinnitus in the past hour. 

“Kinda glad you’re awake to hang out with me,” he said to the tiny bat, who was trying to perch on Geralt’s shoulder, and finding it to be too slippery for traction. Something prickled Geralt’s ear and he went to slap it, hitting only his hand on himself. He turned his face and looked at his glove, but it was clean. The ringing was in both of his ears with his face turned this way, and he looked up, wondering if it was indeed a noise coming from a direction. 

And what he saw in the distance was a small, dark cottage. 

_-_-_-

“Regis I’m starting to think that maybe there are _too_ many rooms for us to check all of them,” you said, becoming annoyed with the number of doors that lead to the same exact bed chamber you had just come out. The doors were literally lining the halls in every direction. Every subsequent hallway had more doors and more hallways coming off of _them_ and it was becoming ridiculous. The effect of it was nearing claustrophobia. “Maybe we can just jump out of one of the windows, you can still turn into a bat here, right?”

“We’ll try one or two more _then_ we’ll see about flinging ourselves from the balcony,” Regis was just opening another door when a flash of light encompassed him, and when it dissipated the door slammed shut and you were alone in the hall. 

“Regis,” your heartbeat quickened and you ran to the door, opening it, but Regis wasn’t inside the room. You ran inside it, _“Regis!”_ you shouted, then you walked out and closed the door and opened it again. Then you walked inside of it and looked out the window, but couldn’t see him anywhere. “No, no no no no...” 

You started to panic as you walked back out into the hallway. You felt your chest moving up and down. But then you remembered that you could feel him here. You closed your eyes, and reached out to him and... _yes_ you thought. He was somewhere on a level below you, you were certain. You looked down at the floor as if that could make you move through it. Then sighed. When you looked up, the walls had changed. “Well _that’s_ something.” 

  
  


Regis’ vision came back to him just in time to see Dettlaff turn a corner ahead of him at a quickening pace. “Dettlaff!” The vampire broke out into a trot. 

Dettlaff’s raven black head of hair popped back out into the hall, “where is she?” he yelled, and started running towards the other vampire. “Are you okay?” he asked, and the older vampire was surprised that the other sounded nearly shook. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Regis told him. “I don’t know what happened, I was just with Maina and…”

Regis trailed off, the younger vampire was nearly charging at him, and when he went to take a step back, the younger vampire reached him, lifting him up in his arms. Dettlaff squeezed Regis tightly against his musculature- his large chest moving up and down beneath him. He felt so powerful, to Regis. He _was_ so powerful. Regis felt himself starting to get warm from the touch of him, and he was surprised to find that he was blushing. Excited, even. Dettlaff was still holding him suspended in the air when he finally calmed down, and a part of him hoped that Dettlaff wouldn’t notice what had just happened to his body. 

Finally, his feet found the floor. 

“Regis,” Dettlaff looked into the older vampire’s eyes, and put a hand on the back of his neck, thumbing his jaw, holding it, watching as his eyes closed and he breathed, relaxing. “I am glad that you are okay.” 

Regis swallowed, not expecting to react in the peculiar way he just had. Then, remembering what they needed to accomplish, he asked, “you can feel her, right?”

The younger vampire nodded his head, “Yes,” he replied, “it is almost overwhelming.” 

The older vampire could not agree more.

-

You were running through the corridor at full speed now, having no idea where it was going to take you, but if you had to look inside another door just to see the same room again you were going to hurl. You were nearly frantic. As you reached the end of another hall you slammed into the wall, frustrated. Then you looked both ways, already it was time to decide _again_ whether left or right was your fancy. So you walked to the left, and that’s when you noticed the paintings. 

Some were depictions of dark places, some were of people you’d never seen, and some were composed entirely of phthalo blue. They were more or less the same three paintings over and over again, only they weren’t in the same order and as you looked down the adjacent halls you could take, noticed that some had more than others, your feet found themselves at a trot, again, until you were for some reason running and then you found it. A corridor of only blue. And at the end of it, a dark figure disappeared around the corner to another hall. 

You burst into a sprint after it, and realized that something was making noise behind you, turning the corner you didn’t look around to see what it was, you only looked ahead to see the figure float down the next corner. You were becoming tired, and your body was beginning to feel incredibly funny. A wind was picking up somewhere along your body and it filled with tension as you tried to make yourself move faster. 

You kept feeling the tension build, and recognized that it was the same as the tension you felt on the beach with Geralt before casting Aard...was it _magic? Pyschokinetic…_ you couldn’t remember. But it was that energy, all the same. Only there was entirely _too much_ of it, and it felt like you had entirely _too much space to store it in._ You had no idea what to do with it as it brimmed inside of you and you worried, closing your hands, hoping they were still the gateway of its power, maybe. Suddenly you remembered wishing you could run faster, and without meaning to, you shot forward, sending you careening through the air, crashing through a lavishly decorated door at the end of the hallway and out onto a massive balcony.

Landing you smacked the marble with your face first, and immediately tasted blood. Crumpled, you felt your body slack. You moved your head painfully and saw you were alone, accept for a small table with that jade mirror on it. You shivered and felt a searing pain in the shoulder you smacked with the door, now most likely broken. Slowly, you felt the hairs rise on the back of your neck and turned your head around to see a beautifully shaped man who was smartly dressed fill the entryway. He was unnaturally good looking, and you quailed from him as he walked out onto the balcony. You blinked and saw that he was no longer handsome, but pudgy, old, and balding. 

His smile was unkindly, and it made you angry. It made you scared. 

“So _you’re_ what all of this has been about,” he snickered, “all my _fucking_ trouble for some poor girl who can’t even handle her magic in Krael’ef. Pity. Oh but you _will_ like your new home.” He smiled, and you noticed he was fingering something in his pocket, “I promise you.” 

You went to stand, but you couldn’t push yourself up with your shoulder. You closed your eyes and felt yourself lift from the tension, and realized that now you were floating a foot above the ground, then landed on your feet. The pudgy man’s eyes went wide, before they flashed to the mirror on the table. 

_Find an exit._ You remembered Regis’ words. You felt the older vampire’s presence nearing you and felt emboldened. Vigo’s eyes tightened.

Suddenly the two of you were flying towards the mirror. You were running foot over the other until suddenly you were no longer on the ground at all- you were jolting through the air without the need to move your legs - before you were back on the ground again, disorienting your movements in your lack of control over your own ability, and Vigo got ahead of you. Closing in on the mirror you watched as he began morphing mid dash into a giant black panther before your very eyes. Your body began building tension within it. Time was slowing as you trailed him, not wanting him to escape. Not wanting to be hunted. It slowed until it nearly stopped. Then you _felt_ what you wanted to do.

Your arms were out on either side of you, yanking one arm tight to the other, nearly screaming from how it felt on your shoulder, and clapped them together at the same time the giant cat reached the mirror and vanished in a streak of light. Immediately two pillars belonging to the balcony archway obeyed your command and flew from where they stood around you - crashing into each other where Vigo had just disappeared. The din and sheer force of wind from your energy threw you up and backwards through the air and into the wall behind you. You heard your shoulder crack and screamed, then slumped, tired.

Dettlaff and the Regis we're hurtling towards her. They’d felt it, they knew. Just beyond the door, the older vampire thought. His footsteps falling behind the younger and larger before out of nowhere a noisy eruption rang out and sent the two of them flying backwards through the corridor and onto the floor, debris spinning in the air past them. Landing on their hands, knees, and feet, they looked at each other.

You opened your eyes and saw Dettlaff looking over you, “Maina,” he sounded throaty and distant, “are you okay?” his hand was on your face. Beyond him Regis was digging through the rubble you had caused. 

You saw the older vampire cock his head, and slowly bent over to pick something up, and you called for him not to touch it, but your vision went white and you started getting the sensation of flying through the air, unable to hear anything. 

Then you flew out of the book and onto your ass in the lawn of Corvo Bianco along with Dettlaff, Regis, Geralt, Geralt’s _bag_ , and Dacreval. 

“Thank god. I was becoming incredibly _bored_.” 

You moaned in pain, and rolled over to see one Yennefer of Vengerberg sitting on the fainting couch Geralt kept on his hill, staring at a small, undulating black book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *spoiler smut convo*
> 
> smut convo: 
> 
> Maina realizes that maybe they shouldn't have sex because she hasn't clarified with Regis that he actually wants or is ready to become a dad. 
> 
> Regis is like wait what you actually want that with me? I thought you were like...just trying to get me to cum or something last night when you told me that
> 
> Maina responds, dude I totally want that with you I think you are super great and I love you
> 
> Regis is like holy cow that means a lot to me and I am really grateful that I have you in my life let us parent together smooch smooch smooch 
> 
> ^That's kind of what they would have said if they were more confident and effective in their communication but it's essentially what happened! I can copy and paste the conversation and get rid of the sexflection if you all want because I'm realizing right now that this isn't a very serious alternative I have created and it feels a little undermining, but I actually like this better than their hokey pokey convoluted actual conversation so you are, in fact, getting the gold standard
> 
> other chapter stuff:  
> Anyway, this chapter has been a long time coming and it's from my head canon so I was pretty nervous about introducing it to y'all but I think it services the FF well if you're ready to take this trip with me. This head canon became unintentionally solid and fleshed out so if after next chapter anyone is having trouble with it please feel free to ask, as it is most likely my fault for not explaining it well enough -- though some things I certainly want to remain unanswered (to you all) for awhile because I think you will enjoy it more! It's pretty similar to a lot of other fantasy workings and even a lot of mechanics already in The Witcher works, so I don't think the ideas will be difficult to digest...so if they are, again, that isn't on you.


	37. yArt [now NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'The Bubs' - Geralt, Maina, Dettlaff, Regis and Dacreval   
> Maina, Regis, & Dacreval in the sea  
> Dettlaff & Maina on the beach  
> ...  
> NSFW  
> Regis & Maina f*cking


	38. Yennefer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer explains some key information to a very unhappy group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will probably be more art up tomorrow 'cause I'm pretty excited about family portraits and cute little moments between our group. 
> 
> Next chapter of the *story is probably going to be saucy. Hehehehe. But I am very interested in seeing what you think of this chapter right here. A little confusion is fine (I mean the main character is certainly confused at this point lmao).
> 
> Stay safe and enjoy!

Dettlaff’s large hand was wrapped around yours. It was obvious that he was touch starved of you after what had to have been only a few hours... but they were scary hours, so you couldn’t blame him. You knew he would like to have more of him around you, touching you better, but he kept getting angry at Yennefer and not only standing up to huff in her general direction, having to pass Dacreval off to either Regis or Geralt in doing so. You thought maybe he just didn’t like to be angry with his son in his arms. Maybe he _couldn’t_ be angry with him in his arms, but you could feel that he missed Dacreval as much as he missed you, after having worried about you both, and couldn’t not hold him. It seemed like Dettlaff had been _very_ worried for you in that place. More worried than you thought it made sense to be…even with him _being_ a vampire mate and you _being_ the biggest obligation he’ll ever have in his long life. The thought made you yearn to be more for him, just because you wanted him to have the best he could ever have. 

Your body was a battered mess, presently, and Regis had gone into the cellar immediately to brew you something for the pain. You couldn’t have been more grateful. You were worried about how he may have changed, now that you were out of that place, but were relieved to find that overall he felt much... _lighter_ . How else could you explain it? You couldn’t feel his energy, now, though you did feel a tingling on your neck in the short period of time you’d been back. Regis seemed to have found two different seats in the dining room he was going to take up - one at the large wooden table, when you could tell he was intrigued or upset, and one next to you, which you were pretty certain he was also sitting at intrigued and upset- he just took it up essentially whenever he glanced at you. He still didn’t seem _chipper_ , or anything, but he was making eye contact and _smiling_ at you. You had a feeling you wouldn’t truly be able to tell how he was until _after_ everything with Yen was sorted out. 

When Yen had finished setting the healing process in motion, she told you that it would take four hours until you’d feel back to normal. You weren’t sure how long it had been since then, but the yelling was causing you a headache and you still had some yelling of your own to do. You were just _tired._ Exhausted, even, after doing whatever you did with psychokinetic energy earlier that day...last night? You’d _shattered_ your left shoulder, which was absolute shit because that thing’s attached to your dominant hand and you were worried that despite the healing powers of the sorceress...it might not _feel_ right again. Yennefer was an incredible magic user and you really didn’t blame her for everything that had happened. Yeah, you’d been mad at her for not writing more, but she was busy. Or at least it seemed like she’d been busy. It’d been confusing. There was a knot in your stomach, now, about why she had been close to you those nights. If she was interested in your dreams, that would make sense as to why she… Something was hurting and you thought _maybe_ that it was your pride. You’d known from the start that it wasn't like someone as powerful, important, and intelligent as Yennefer of Vengerberg had all the time in the world to mess around with some silly... _Ailma? What was it, again? Ailma_ user when she had more important matters to deal with, but it had been such a whirlwind. She made it sound like she was going to come see you. You tried not to think about it. Dettlaff’s hand tightened around yours, and you weren’t sure if maybe some of his dislike for the sorceress was because of what you’d told him on the beach, and you weren’t sure if some of what Yennefer felt towards Dettlaff was because he swooped in and stole her estranged, somewhat magical sex toy she stored away at an old lover’s vacation home. 

Yennefer sat perched on the corner of the table confidently in a black and white ensemble...looking _beyond_ words could describe. You had earnestly forgotten just how beautiful she was, and you felt your face heat under her gaze each time she looked at you. Though part of that was frustration. The former embarrassed you, slightly. _Especially_ with Dettlaff and Regis next to you. Both of whom seemed to be completely unfazed by her good looks, making you feel somehow more uncomfortable than you would be if they just...you don’t know, could _relate_ to you about it in some way. Instead of both of them picking up on the fact that you were reacting to her, somewhat. Maybe you just become jaded to beauty after reaching two hundred, or something. It was incontrovertible that _Geralt_ was experiencing similar side effects to Yen as you, but you couldn’t very well confide in _him_ about that. That felt incredibly awkward, considering you didn’t know that he and Yen were a thing until...a little late. 

What can be certain, was that the normal peace and quiet of Corvo Bianco on a beautiful, late summer morning was shattered by the cacophony of banter, bickering, rebukes and buttles. This all was true and the four of you had only explained that Artorius Vigo wanted to kidnap you, that there was a strange mirror, and that he had turned into what looked like your familiar. You hadn’t even _begun_ recounting everything that had happened before that. You heard Geralt’s voice carry at a higher decibel than a moment ago, and you were brought back to the sunny, cozy room…currently dripping in turmoil.

“Listen, Yen,” Geralt scolded, standing with his back resting against the north wall of the dining room and obviously unhappy, “I’m sorry but if you’re going to send people after some book that’s actually an evil piece of magic housing a maniac, you should give them better warning.”

“I _did_ warn you. Did you not inform everyone? I explicitly stated that the book may have intense and powerful _illusionary_ magic - _hypnotic_ magic. I told you to _prepare_. I _had a list_. What happened?”

“Maina and Regis were sucked into it unexpectedly,” Geralt replied, still leaning on the wall. 

“ _So_?” The sorceress asked flatly.

“ _So_ I was _going_ to pack more, okay? But...” Geralt shifted uncomfortably and made a face at Dettlaff, who was too busy staring daggers into Yen to notice. The witcher closed his eyes tightly before opening them and continuing. “Listen, even if I had packed everything, Yen, why didn’t you tell me about Maina’s dreams?”

Yennefer of Vengererg, along with everyone else in the room, yourself included, stilled at that question. She took in a deep breath, then exhaled, pulling up her fine black and white gloves, and brushed something off of her thigh with a limp and too bored wrist. You could tell that she was hesitant to answer, but it seemed as though she made up her mind that it was going to have to happen, albeit stubbornly. 

“Fine,” she said, hopping off of the table and choosing to take a proper seat at it instead. “Let’s start with you all telling me exactly what happened. You can keep it to your dreams, for now. The dreams you had in his illusion.” 

“Everyone’s? Or just Maina’s?” Regis asked, eyebrows raised slightly. Yennefer’s face lost a little bit of its stony composure as she glanced at you quickly.

“ _Everyone’s,”_ She sighed. Then turned to you, “Starting with Maina. You said you were there two nights total. We’ll begin with everyone telling me the first dream they had, then we’ll move on.” Dettlaff had stiffened slightly at the mention of everyone going through their dreams.

You took a deep breath, for once _glad_ that you were talking to someone who you didn’t have to explain this to in detail, looked at Yennefer and said blankly, “I had _the_ dream.” 

Yennefer considered you skeptically. “I thought you told me you didn’t have that dream anymore, Maina. That you only dreamt of large, pale wings, black panthers and what have you-”

“I _did_ only dream of those things,” you interrupted, not enjoying her tone, “until two nights ago.”

“Was it the same?” she asked, knowingly.

“Yes,” you nodded, and couldn’t help but feel grateful for her ambiguity. Then tense because of it. _Was it important to hide this information, still? From your loved ones?_ You watched the sorceress who was now looking rather deep in thought, and frowning. 

Her head snapped to the side. 

“Geralt?” she asked, and he squinted at her. 

“You know I don’t sleep much, Yen,” he replied, sounding annoyed and the both of them sounding like a divorced couple, before he started walking off towards the kitchen, “But Dettlaff says I had trouble meditating, not like I can remember, though. Wine, anyone? What time is it…”

His voice trailed off as the kitchen door shut behind him. Yennefer took out a notebook and quill and began writing. Regis squeezed your calf and stood, taking a seat across from the sorceress but not so that he would block your view. 

Regis’ face colored as he cleared his throat at Yen, and when he went to speak, she looked at him confusedly. 

“Regis can this wait until after we’ve gone through the rest of the dreams?”

It looked like the older vampire had almost hesitated, and the sorceress’ mouth fell open before her eyes traveled to you. The two of you made eye contact for what seemed like a long time, and you felt something stick in your throat, before she put a hand to her face and sighed. 

“In that case Regis, while we’re broaching the subject, how long have you and Maina been... _involved_?” Yennefer waved a hand between yourself and the surgeon-barber, who, to your surprise, rolled his eyes at her humorlessly.

“What business is it of yours, _sorceress?_ ” Dettlaff asked acidically, and you squeezed his large hand. 

“It’s okay,” you told him, and he swallowed. His big, steely blue gray eyes meeting yours and softening in the moment. He slowly closed his eyes and reopened them at you, before they darted distrustfully back to Yen. Somehow, you knew he'd just told you that he'd behave. _With a blink._

Regis cleared his throat, “Since that night.” 

This was perhaps the most awkward you had ever felt. Luckily, just as Regis answered, you heard the kitchen door swing open and Geralt came to sit at the table with a bottle of wine and four _tankards,_ obviously having remembered you don’t drink. He didn’t bother pouring anyone else a literal mug, and instead took a sip himself before looking around with an expectant expression.

“Had you slept much before that night?” Yen asked the surgeon-barber.

“I’m afraid not,” he replied, “and I regret to inform you that I also hadn’t dreamt in some time, either.” 

Yen’s eyes got slightly larger, “And you slept both nights?” He nodded. She frowned, looking down at her accumulation of written findings. 

“When was the last time you slept regularly like that?”

His eyes were beginning to look glossy, and when Yennefer saw that, she seemed to understand. It was with Amilie. 

“With her?” She asked, he nodded, and she continued to write in her notebook for a long time before looking up at him expectantly. “Tell me about the dream.”

“Overall it wasn’t an entirely pleasant experience, but as it were, I dreamt of Amilie. We made love, and before it was over, she was Maina,” he ended with a nod to no one in particular and, his chest rising, looked passed Geralt to the sunny window behind him. There his eyes stayed, for some time.

“And you were sleeping next to Maina when this happened?” Yen clarified, and Regis nodded before she retreated again into thought. You tightened your hand around Dettlaff’s reassuringly at the question, maybe even reflexively. Dettlaff smiled down at you, bringing his face in beside yours and _inhaled,_ eyes closed, before exhaling with a lustful rumble. You felt yourself twitch as he nudged your face with his large muzzle, reminding you of a lion, and swallowed. Nearly forgetting where you were for a moment, you were grateful that Yen hadn’t been paying attention to _that_ interaction.

While Yen went about writing you watched as Dacreval yawned, tired, and you hoped that he would sleep. You were glad to see him in his human form, and you were glad to see that his hair was growing along with _the rest of him -_ his slightly too large for a human jaw and long fingers, his eyes were becoming lighter blue in color. Regis had given him something to make him stay in his human form - not for long, just the same amount of time he’d been forced to stay in his bat form...it warmed your heart that he was concerning himself so much in the matter. That being said, you couldn’t help that a part of you wished he was in his bat form right now, _just to rub the pride you felt for your family in Yennefer’s face._ She could only _try_ to say something about it. That was the only thing you felt you were really, truly angry at Yennefer for, anymore. You’d given up on the rest of the anger by this point.

“And you?” Yennefer’s voice brought you out of Dacreval’s sleepy face and back to the room. She was looking up from her notes asking Dettlaff, who regarded her with an even stonier expression. Yennefer looked back down at her notebook, apparently still finishing up a thought.

“I saw my mother,” Dettlaff’s voice was as solid as his expression, but your larger mate’s energy was tepid and skittish. You looked at him, worried. He’d never spoken to you about his family before. He’d refused so often that not long after falling in love, you’d given up on the prospect of prying him open about it.

Yennefer’s quill slowed at his response, and you saw her begin to move the fingers on her right hand as if she were turning something over in it. It reminded you of how Artorius Vigo was palming something in his pocket. You shivered, shaking your head. When your gaze fell on her again, she tore her attention away from a blank spot on the wall behind you and asked him, “Is that all?”

“There was another. Male. I am not sure who it was.” Dettlaff informed her, challengingly. Dacre started to wiggle unhappily, feeling his father’s tension. Despite Geralt’s obvious desire to jump at the opportunity, Regis was there to relieve Dettlaff in a moment. You looked at him gratefully, upset at your shoulder for preventing you the joy of holding him, the ability to fulfill your instinct to ease his troubles. Then Regis sat down next to you on the fainting couch on the opposite side of where the conversation was happening. You watched Val fall lazily into sleep, feeling at ease again, and the older vampire watched you enjoying it. Dettlaff’s energy became sharp for a moment and, Regis sensing something too, both your heads popped up to look for the cause. 

Yennefer had been staring at the three of you and Dacreval in disgust. She shook her head and her brows pulled down, changing her expression quickly and completely and continued writing. But you’d seen it. You wished you wanted to yell at her, but for some reason, you felt more closely to tears. Yennefer was asking Dettlaff something when you felt Regis’ large hand fall lightly on yours and you looked up at him. He nodded to Yen surreptitiously, shook his head, and smiled at you. You felt your eyebrows pucker up at him, and his nostrils flared. _Get it together or by the end of this_ _they'll_ both _hate_ _Yennefer._

“Regis,” Yennefer interrupted, “how did you say Amilie died, again?”

You earnestly felt like you were going to throw up as you watched Regis’ expression go from soft and kind to blank and in a daze. _That_ face.

“I’m not sure,” he replied monotone. “Why ever would you ask me that?”

 _That_ question had a bit of a bite in it, and you were proud of him for it.

“I might need to talk to you about that more later,” Yen was talking into her notebook. Then she stood. “Right, well, I’m coming down on time so we’re going to have to speed this up.”

“Yen,” Geralt cut in, having given up on the wine nearly immediately after beginning to drink it, “doesn’t seem like there’s much of a point in you coming here if you’re not going to start explaining some things.”

Yennefer smiled at him sardonically, “You’re very lucky that I arrived when I _did_ , Geralt. Do you know where I found _that_ book?”

Regis, Geralt, yourself, and even Dettlaff exchanged glances. Yennefer looked around at the lot of you and you shook your head. Dettlaff looked like he was going to kill her if you ever gave him the go ahead on it. You weren’t so certain he might not kill her and call it an accident, anyway.

“No?” Yennefer asked, “It’s an animated piece of work, and I found it halfway down the hill outside, journeying its way to the stream. I watched it _hop_ into the water on its own accord. Do you think you’d all be alive had I not retrieved it? It was attempting to drown you all, and effectively.” 

You thought of the flash flood, a chill running down your spine before Dettlaff’s hand on yours tightened protectively. Then Yennefer addressed the room. 

“I am going to assume from the information you provided that you had the same dreams the second night, yes?”

“Yes,” you replied, “but how do you know tha-”

“Geralt I _did_ tell you to inform me if Maina mentioned any bizarre dreams.” She turned to you, “I told _you_ to do the same, remember? I am just as curious as to why you didn’t inform me she was having them...” Yennefer looked at Geralt fiercely, “especially since it seems right that now you _know_ of them?”

 _“What?”_ He nearly yelled, “Yeah, I found out about them literally _last night_ \- the _day_ after Maina had one. Listen Yen, I know that you like to play things close to the chest but that was too close. You’re not fucking with Maina’s life anymore.”

Yennefer looked livid, “Oh I suppose _that’s_ why you went and gave her little mutations against my will? To _save her?_ Do you think she can be _saved from it all?”_

At that Dettlaff stood, rumbling. When he spoke his voice had that terribly unlike his sound to it - coldly matter-of-fact. As if what he were saying was a simple truth as he turned to Yennefer, “You will tell us everything you know about Maina, or I will tear the _throat_ from your _neck_.” 

Regis and Geralt froze, and you started to feel your heart pounding in your ear. There was nothing that made you believe Yen and Dettlaff couldn’t adequately kill each other if they tried. In all reality you thought that Yennefer was probably more powerful. 

That is, you thought that before you saw the look on her face. She was beyond angry...but you _knew_ that look. She was afraid. Geralt seemed thoroughly surprised, and even Regis’ eyes got a little wide at the sight. 

“And maybe tell us why everyone else had dreams, too.” Geralt said, trying to break the tension. Yennefer startled. 

“Even yourself?” she asked him quickly, and the witcher shook his head no. 

“Yen,” you said, sitting up more in your seat, but she was still focused on Geralt.

“Good because you wouldn’t have survived it,”

“ _Yen,_ ” you tried interrupting.

“It isn’t possible for humans, even with mutations to venture into Krael’ef unaided by an entryway or powerful magi-”

“ _YEN!”_ You yelled, and finally the black haired sorceress turned to look at you, her face emotionless. “ _Please._ It’s been a year. I don’t know what’s happening to me, and I still don’t understand what happened _then_. _Please._ ”

As Yennefer, too proud to break her gaze from you, stared into your eyes you saw them soften, until it looked like she’d remembered what you’d been through.

She blinked.

“You were in Krael’ef, Maina,” Yen started, looking resolved and even _saddened_. “I couldn’t be certain when I found you in Redania that that was what you had done,” she continued, as if speaking to herself for a moment, “but I had suspicion.”

Looking around, everyone seemed a little lost besides Regis. _He_ looked lost _and_ intrigued. So Yen continued.

"Inside Artorius Vigo's book of petty illusions he hid a door, or _doors_ to Krael'ef."

“Krael’ef is a place connected to this planet, and every other planet or place that has existed. It’s referred to as the dream world because that’s what it feels like, and you reach it in your sleep, mostly. It’s both reality and not.” She sat down, opened her notebook and started writing again. “You will, most likely, only ever see versions of your own world while in it. It’s incredibly dangerous, and it has real consequences, I can assure you. It reflects on what has or could have happened, on what _is_ or could be happening, and what will or can happen.” She looked up, her eyes shifting from you, Regis, and Dettlaff, then back to the notebook. “It is possible to travel to different worlds, planets, times and galaxies while in it, if ever you were to get so lucky or unfortunate as to find an entrance to one, but you’d probably die before that. It’s a ridiculously dangerous place and plainly _absurd._ Occurrences beyond explanation happen there - beyond explanation for someone who belongs only to _one_ world. We do not understand it.” 

You saw Regis sit up a little. Yen noticed, so she addressed him next. 

“It is very difficult for vampires to travel there because they are rarely in a state of sleep. I’ve never read of anyone finding an entryway to the homeland of vampires, Regis. I’m sorry. I _do_ have reason to believe some vampires have studied Krael’ef and actually come to call it home,” you thought you saw her eyes flash to your dark haired vampire, before adding, “but I personally wouldn’t go _looking_ for them. I advise that you do not waste yourself on the idea of finding home.” 

Her tender tone was surprising, until you remembered that Regis had saved her life at a great expense to his own. 

“It is very difficult to find Krael’ef, and not many people have ventured there accidentally and managed to keep their lives. But you, Maina, _did_. Twice, at least, and I suspect every time you have that dream of yours you are in fact traveling to Krael’ef.”

“Why?” you asked...wishing you knew enough to ask better questions. Then as if to prove your point exactly, followed up with, “ _How?_ ” 

Yennefer drew in a long breath and closed her notebook. 

“Well, I wasn’t wrong in that you are an Ailma user, Maina, but it seems rather obvious at this juncture that you are more. A Tsudmi. A true Ailma user, and you pull your energy from the very place that pulled you into itself last night. Not only that, but this makes you a _Door_ . A means to travel to Krael’ef. You’re a door that only _you_ can use safely, without extra precautions in place, to gain access.” She looked at the male figures on either side of you, “though it seems your _vampires_ aren’t at risk of death when you pull them in, either.”

You swallowed, likening you to inanimate objects was never something you were comfortable with in general, but _especially_ not when it came to magic users. You were not a _tool_ , and you felt Dettlaff put his arm gently around you.

“You can enter Krael’ef whenever you like once you understand how. Regardless, you are very rare, Maina. Most Doors are not Tsudma, like yourself - or people at all, but small objects interlaced with an ancient magic. Relics, essentially. They are referred to as _object_ Doors, very literally. We do not know how they work, and research on them now is largely regarded as futile, and has long been stopped. The mask that I wanted you to retrieve is the Door that Artorius Vigo is currently using to gain entry to Krael’ef, to the world of dreams.”

You shifted, you hadn’t remembered seeing him with a mask, only the mirror. “What about the mirror?”

“That is just the other side of the same door, Maina,” she replied, “on our end of reality, the handle of the door is the mask, on the side of Krael’ef, it is apparently the mirror you all used to leave Krael’ef. The exit, and apparently an exit with so much force that even the book with Vigo’s silly illusions vomited you back out.”

Your eyes got wide. 

“Some doors only have one handle, but from the sound of it, Artorius’ does have a two handled door. Two handled doors are weak, thank god. Eventually you won’t _need_ any doors because you _are_ one, and I have no doubt in my mind that Artorius wants you because of that quality, _or_ he is working for someone else that wants to use you to gain access...Or worse.”

She shook her head, “what they weren’t realizing was how powerful Doors are in Krael’ef. I’m guessing they’re inexperienced, though everyone is when concerning the world of dreams, even those who might call it their home. Either way, Maina, when _you_ are in Krael’ef, you have the entirety of its energy at your hands.”

You felt your hairs rise on end. You believed that, after what you felt coursing through your body last night. 

“The tricky thing will be whether or not you can manage to not kill yourself with it if you use it in Krael’ef, and whether or not you can use it in the waking world. I’ve read of it being done. But using it in the waking world will require you to open yourself up to Krael’ef, as a Door, and pull power from it.” Yennefer’s eyes were getting a far away look when she finally added, “ _Standing_ in the _doorway_... It’s absolutely fascinating. Incredibly difficult, and incredibly dangerous.”

_Incredibly dangerous._

“People can’t survive being pulled into the dream world?” you asked abruptly. Yen looked at you apologetically.

“No, which is why your first trip there was…” she looked around at the others in the room and stopped herself, _“unsavory._ I’m sorry, Maina. There aren’t many Doors in the world anymore, and people do not understand how dangerous they are.” 

_How dangerous I am._

There was something else you wanted to ask. 

“Artorius Vigo turned into a large, black cat before he escaped,” you said blankly. 

“Yes,” Yen recalled the detail you shared earlier, “that means he’s been watching you for a while. It seems he has many faces, and I’d like to know exactly _how_ _many_ there are so we can be prepared. Apparently, however, he is afraid to come too close, and I think you should be safe for now until I return in the flesh when you are ready for your next stage of training.”

 _“What?”_ you asked, going to stand up but flinching because of the pain, “you’re going to _leave_ again?”

“I will meet you in Krael’ef to train every other night, and I will show you how to get there yourself, safely. I have a Door for you to use in the meantime, Maina, please. You can’t come to the North, there are many more recorded entryways there, and you being close to an entryway is a _danger_.”

“Well what’s the difference between an entryway and a door?” you asked, feeling confused and overwhelmed.

“Entryways don’t _move_ ,” she replied, tersely, as if trying to speed things up all of the sudden, and you didn’t know why. 

You looked at Dacreval. _What if I accidentally pull Dacreval or Geralt in?_ You thought, becoming panicked that Yennefer was planning to leave when you had so many questions, when you didn’t want to do what you’d done before. 

She was beginning to stand up and you felt yourself getting hysterical, your body went to build enough tension to stand up on your own, like you did last night, but couldn’t feel anything. You started pushing yourself up with your right arm and Dettlaff, realizing what you wanted, helped you up with one arm before letting you stand on your own.

“Yennefer did I kill those people,” you felt your throat lurch in your neck, and blinked back tears at the sound of you actually _saying it. Had I ever said it aloud before?_ “Did they die because I pulled them into that place?” You couldn’t blink back the faces of the dead that still lay in the world of dreams. “Because I didn’t know how to control it?”

Yennefer looked at you and finished standing before she walked over to you and looked up into your eyes. “I am sorry, Maina, believe me when I tell you that how I am doing things is for your own good.” 

“Then I won’t let you leave until you-”

“I think it’s a little early for you to be doling out threats,” she said, looking amused at you, “I wouldn’t leave without having given Regis instructions on brewing you something for sleep. You won’t pull anyone in, except for perhaps the vampires, but as they can regenerate swiftly, it seems to be a non issue. I’d rather have them with you if you get pulled in, anyway.” The dark haired sorceress was looking at you with a tenderness you hadn’t been expecting. “I also suggest checking Dacreval’s regenerative abilities when it’s safe. He should never be allowed there, but knowing that he will be okay if something happens might give you reassurance,” for less than an instant, you saw something dangerously close to _longing_ flash across Yennefer’s eyes as she glanced at Dacre, before returning to your gaze, “I am not abandoning you, Maina. I couldn’t be here, and this was the safest place for you. We will meet every other night to train, and I can answer more questions then. You will _not_ be alone, but there are matters concerning this very subject that I must tend to elsewhere, for _everyone’s_ safety.”

You nodded, feeling better if only for the fact that she showed she was willing to take the time to explain something to you.

She shook her head, “I _am_ sorry, Maina,” she whispered. “There’s more that I need to explain to you, alone, as well. No offense,” she raised her voice at the last sentence and motioned to the rest of the party, who were regarding her with varying levels of apathy. 

She retrieved a small pouch from her fitted blazer, and took out what looked to be a figurine of a small black cat, before replacing it back in the pouch and handing it to you. “This is your _object_ Door. It is single handled, so you won’t need to keep track of anything on the other side. Don’t hold it with those hands of yours until you are ready to meet me and are laying in a bed, before sleep, to start. Maybe give it to your Prince of Darkness to hold during the day for safe keeping,” she motioned to Dettlaff.

 _That is the second time she’s called him that._

“Regis,” Yennefer called to the older vampire, who snapped out of what looked to be deep concentration, “I’m going to need a word with you. I assure you it won’t take much of your time,” she looked at her watch, “I promised Triss I’d be back by early afternoon and if I’m late again she’ll give me those puppy eyes or kick me out of bed for a week. I’d rather not find out which it is.”

With that, Yennefer of Vengerberg walked through the front door with Regis, still deep in thought, following behind her. Dettlaff stood beside you holding Dacreval and, nearly growling at the door, kissed you. You turned around to see Geralt pacing, the metal tankard in his hand crumpled in his grip.

\------

Krael’ef : World of Dreams, Place Between, Ye Big Ole Death Bowl (<that one is a lie) Land of Possibilities. It joins everything that ever was, is, will, and could be together. It’s f*cking creepy as h*ll. Can be empty, can be full. Maina will be learning much more about it. Can have sex in (<very good note).

Acern Ara : Phenomenon experienced in True Higher Vampires, occurs once in a lifetime. THVs are given reprieve by the intense love and feeling of belonging from another living creature. Are not always human. 

Tesham Mutna Husbandry Humans : Line of humans bred by vampires so that they may reproduce with said humans (for blood yield/blood farming) as well as travel with them (convenience). The more a Tesham Mutna Product reproduces with their vampire master, the longer their life expectancy - but what was important to the vampires running the experiments, was the fact that the humans would become robust enough to leave alone in a cell or cave without medications or care. Essentially, older or ‘more bred’ mothers turned a better profit. 

Udmi : one of two natural sources of magic (used by high brow magic users *pinkies up, scallywags)

Ailma : one of two natural sources of magic. This magic source allows its users to pull energy left behind from Krael’ef (shrines and temples important to druids and other Ailma users witting and unwittingly located near Krael’ef Entryways)

Tsudmi (sing.) Tsudma (plural) : Magic User who has ability to pull their Ailma directly from Krael’ef...granting them nearly endless energy and ability. The Tsudmi must learn how to stand in the doorway before pulling from Krael’ef successfully. Cause usually if they don’t they just die haha. Ah. Scary. In Krael’ef Tsudmi can easily summon power, but that means they can also easily summon more power than their bodies are capable of handling, and can also die, or go insane from it. 

Door : refers to how a Tsudmi can easily move between their perspective world and Krael’ef. There were only [spoiler]. 

Object Door : magical artifact used as a way for non tsudmi / Doors to get into Krael’ef whenever they want. They come in all shapes and sizes and are difficult to find (locked away?)

OD 1 Handle : an object door with only one magical artifact to get in and out of Krael’ef

OD 2 Handle : an object door with two magical artifacts. The one used as an exit from Krael’ef is never allowed to leave Krael’ef, and can be moved, lost, or destroyed in the users absence. It is not the best means of travel. 

THERE! I might make the glossary a chapter so y'all can reference it and then there can be one easy place to go talk smack/smack down on it

idk why i'm promoting that you all go WWE on this head canon i know nothing about wrestling

i'm probably too lazy to make a chapter on this unless someone asks 

feel free to share your thoughts on this, cause y'all

know I love hearing your take on things!

upside down pyramid, anyone? 

here you go!

:)


	39. Let Others Lead You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's difficult to admit when you've been an ass.  
> If there are people in your life who love you, you might get pulled back to your feet with no consequence other than the promise to do better.
> 
> Oh, Regis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: graphic depictions of consensual sex
> 
> Listened to Aldous Harding's 'The Barrel' a lot while writing this today. 
> 
> "Think like a wise man but communicate in the language of the people...but also kiss a lot of eggs maybe" or whatever it was Yeats said is the mantra of this fic right now
> 
> My younger sister dropped another EP today, which is cool. Feeling pretty happy. 
> 
> Hope you all are having a fantastic day! Enjoy! Get swept away for a moment if ye please!

You rolled over in your bed in the loft of Corvo Bianco, stretching out in the first moments of waking. The sun felt inviting behind your eyelids which were now burnt umber. The body next to you was warm, and you weren’t sure why Dettlaff wasn’t snuggling you now, as he always did. You felt a pang in your breasts, informing you it was time to feed your child. _Who should be up by now,_ you thought.

“Is Val _still_ sleeping?” you grumbled, rubbing your eye sockets with the balls of your knuckles. 

“No, Dettlaff has him,” your lids shot open at the sound of his voice. Regis was laying on the bed watching you, the sunlight playing off an elaborately patterned black dress shirt, the collar standing as he usually wore them. But your eyes went wide at the sight of him.

...He looked _good_. 

_He always looks good, Maina,_ you thought, but for whatever reason he looked more than that. Something about his face looked very hawk-like as it stared down at you, and you were convinced something was different about him. _Are his sideburns darker?_ You searched his face with scrutiny and what was probably a bit of a half-hazard, just-woken-up expression. His chin was moving and you saw that his mouth had curled up in a slight, one sided grin. 

“See something savory?” Regis asked, his voice polite, but teasing. You couldn’t help but stare at him. His cocked brow fell, and he began looking tense waiting for your reply.

“I wasn’t expecting you in my bed,” you replied, honestly. You didn’t know what he was doing yet, and were hoping that this would be pleasant. Sometimes he wasn’t pleasant. 

“Is it rude of me to be here?” he asked, his strained eyes moving to yours. You could feel yourself losing concentration as they relaxed, tracing the features of your face. 

“Rude?” you muttered, breathing, “who cares? You’re here.” 

Regis’ chest rose at that, and he cocked his head, forehead in a tighter state than it had been a moment ago before he saw that you were smiling. You could hardly believe it when he expelled what sounded like a relieved laugh. 

“Can I hold you?” he asked, brows unevening further up his face, looking somewhat- though not entirely, emboldened. 

“Regis, _please,_ ” you were surprised his name came out a whisper and you implored. The handsomely dressed vampire put his arm around you and as you began scooting over to him he finished the job for you by easily and fluidly pulling you _tightly_ to his body. You rested your head on his chest, and felt his breath catch. Then, moving his collar aside with your face, pushed the somewhat cold end of your nose into his warm padded jugular and breathed him in. A burning began in your chest, as well as something stronger between your legs. You wanted him to hold you as much as he could, always.

“I like this, Maina,” his voice sounded like discovery, rectified, and his chest started moving further up and down.

You felt your body trying to swallow, but there wasn’t anything there to help that happen. “How are you feeling, now that we’re back?”

He closed his eyes and you felt his face settle onto the top of your head after it disappeared from your vision, “Like I want to be around you.” 

His chest certainly was rising and falling now, and you squeezed your body against his, the veil of your nightgown thin and revealing. “Then be around me.” 

A soft, sad sounding chuckle danced from above your head where his face rested. “I want to drink your blood.” 

That made you freeze. After how easy being intimate was for him in Krael’ef, it was difficult to tell whether or not he was still struggling with this. His chest was really heaving.

“Regis,” you wanted to calm him down.

“I won’t,” he said through a clenched jaw, but his chest was still heaving, and you felt his hands start to grip you, “am I utterly incapable?”

“Regis,” your voice forming his name in a completely different shape than moments ago, “no, _never.”_

You felt yourself pushing up against him more tightly, and were grateful when he allowed you to hold his head to your chest, willingly. A shot of heat ran through you at the way it felt to have him there. You closed your eyes and kissed the top of his head, feeling your own breaths increase in size.

“Why would you believe that I think that?” you were surprised when you heard the tone of your voice. It was much harder than you had expected it to be. 

Regis made an interesting, guttural noise, similar to clearing one’s throat, but more strenuous sounding. He gripped you, his head nodding against your body. His chest hauling again. You felt a pang in your breasts once more and remembered not having fed Dacreval, and gasped from the sharpness of it. Regis noticed the sound of your cry, and his face shot up at you, eyes wide in concern, his chest somehow moving more. His pupils overwhelmingly large as they threatened to swallow you whole. 

“Is everything okay?” his gaze ran over your body, before reconvening on your face, “What’s wrong?”

You grunted uncomfortably, “where did Dettlaff take Dacreval?”

A bewildered expression engulfed Regis’ face, and he looked around him as if the answer would be lying around the room. His hawk like face turned back to you and assessed you again, hurriedly. 

Then his eyes settled on your full breasts- on the small beads of white liquid that stood motionless on your tender nipples, moistening your nightgown, and widened. Slowly he peered up at you, and his eyebrows dipped with the flaring of his nostrils. His breathing became erratic.

“Reg _is_ ,” your voice crept up on the last bit of his name as the vampire pulled you in towards him. His hand running up your nightgown and throwing it over your head, unveiling you to your room, the cold air of morning sending a shiver down your spine. 

“They’re in Beauclair, dear,” was all that he said before his mouth went to your breast and, squeezing the other with his hand, started licking the moisture off of it. He groaned like he was breaking. “Maina.” 

Your nipples were so sensitive that for a moment it hurt, when he started sucking on them, but then the release you felt afterwards was so good that you found your hand going to the buckle of Regis’ pants. He faltered, and a hot breath spilt on your chest. His thumb massaging your other nipple, hand cupping the tit altogether. “Regis,” you very nearly moaned, “can you handle this?”

It was a real question, and the head of the higher vampire shot up to look at you, before the back of your head had a hand to it and the side of your face met his lips, “Take off my pants, Maina,” he said sloppily into your cheek and you obeyed. His hand started rubbing you crudely but effectively and your leg started to twitch. You were already so eager to come from the stimulation and you didn’t want to, you weren’t anywhere _near_ wanting it to be over. He pushed you so that you fell onto your back and you twitched, wanting him. He brought his body in close to you. _Needing him_. You could feel him at your opening. Your other breast still hurt. “Regis,” he nearly growled at the sound of his name and his eyes found yours - misty and only half able to listen, “you’re forgetting my other-” You gasped as the vampire pulled you towards him and slid his long, hard cock into you, his eyes breaking contact with yours in a roll. Regis knelt on the mattress, his movement sending you _squeezing_ him internally, and his big hands ran down your thighs to your knees and _pulled_ your ass and the rest of you up his lap and into his groin with a _slap_ of his base and balls against your ass and thighs. Your name escaped his mouth before you felt it grip your other nipple and start sucking. As Regis drove into you again you felt the fingers of his other hand start to rub your clitoris and you clutched the bedsheets helplessly. 

“Maina,” his chest pushed up against your belly momentarily as he rolled his hips in excitement, “ _oh Maina,”_ he moaned into your breast as he sucked it sloppily, his hand desperate to please to you, the hard pillar of his body splitting you and you desperate for more of it. “Regis,” you called out to him, getting excited. Regis lifted his face to look at you and his eyes widened and constricted simultaneously, his nostrils flared, his sharp teeth becoming visible when his hand slid under your waist and brought you to him. 

You closed your eyes and opened them to see a billow of dark black and red smoke next to the table before Dettlaff appeared and Regis stilled - his breathing beginning to become rigid. You felt his hands grip you tighter as he drove himself further into you. Regis’ body was starting to ripple in a familiar fashion and your breath caught. Dettlaff was unbuttoning his shirt and walking over, unable to pry his eyes off of the two of you. When your gaze met his, his eyes got even wider and a lustful sneer appeared on his face. Regis thrust again and your eyes closed involuntarily, “ _REgis”_ you squealed. His grip on you becoming more severe and when you opened your eyes, saw Dettlaff nearly to the two of you. Regis turned at him and _hissed_ so fiercely that for a moment you tried to push him out of you, but he pulled you back before your vision went black, temporarily, coming to in the crow building’s crypt like laboratory, the first thing you felt was Regis’ cock digging into you. “ _Maina,”_ he quaked unsteadily, thumbing your clitoris, bent over you on the table, nearly sending you off of it. “What the _fuck_ Regi--” but you were so close to coming, and something about the way Regis was fucking you was driving you wild. You wanted his cock deeper, you wanted it more.

You felt his body still rippling underneath your touch, and he started changing. He thrust again, and halfway through moaning your name it dropped an octave, and his hard cock felt different inside you, filling you further in his transitional phase, “ _Oh god, Regis.”_ you yapped, your body taking him in completely. He hesitated, trying to pull away but you didn’t let him, “ _Keep fucking me,”_ you yelped and he didn’t deny you, pushing himself up into you, causing your head to roll back, out of the corner of your eye you could see his long claws as his arms wrapped further around you, pulling you to his monstrous, eerie body, and you rolled your hips, and started to come to the sweet feeling of his base against your clitoris, of his now bigger cock, of his body against yours. _“Emiel”_ you moaned, and heard him gasp at the name, before he nearly _screamed_ into your shoulder. Regis' movements went wild. He overwhelmed you, moaning your name in a voice unfamiliar before he started to cum inside of you, and you felt a viscous liquid so hot it was very nearly _sweltering_ fill you, brimming in you. " _Maina,”_ he called frenzied and held you so tightly against him that for a second you feared he would break you. Then he eased his grip slightly, and let himself relax, trying to catch his breath. Covered in sweat, and still looking like a monster. 

The thought of Dettlaff alone in the room caused anger to build inside of you and, before intelligent thought could inform you of what you were about to do, went to slap him - only before you could raise your hand, Regis was sent flying across the room and into the couch. Dettlaff was on him in a second, picking him up by his black shirt at the collar. 

“If you ever take Maina from me _again_ _,_ ” his voice getting lower as he spoke up at Regis, holding him over his head with one arm, Regis was clawing at him wildly. 

You saw Dettlaff’s shoulders tense, then relax, then tense again. He set Regis down, who was now human again, but still had his shirt collar in his grip. You felt like you couldn’t speak, like you wouldn’t know what to say even if you could. 

Regis looked up at Dettlaff, “I’m sorry, I-” he paused, “I don’t know what happened.” 

“You want a family,” Dettlaff said, flatly. Then he turned from his blood brother and paced the length of the laboratory, turning and opening his mouth to say something, but just stared at Regis. His chest was beginning to rise and fall, and he looked angry. He looked so incredibly angry. He walked to Regis and stopped, “Regis,”

His voice was surprisingly sad.

Dettlaff’s chest was rising and, putting a large vampiric hand to his blood brother’s face, lowered his head and kissed him. His other hand going to Regis’ other cheek, cupping it tenderly. Slowly Regis’ shoulders relaxed, and he kissed him back. 

You felt your breathing exaggerate at the sight. It was possibly the most erotic thing you’d ever encountered, and at the same time was far more, the loveliest. Dettlaff put his arms around Regis, bent at the knee and lifted him up, then walked over to you. 

You were absolutely still gaping, but you were also certain you were about to cry from relief. You wanted the three of you to be together for so long that you had started to believe that it just wasn’t going to happen, and… and looking at the eyes of the two vampires, you weren’t alone in that thinking. Dettlaff looked down at you with his chest puffed up a little, a crooked smile and eyes glistening. 

There were definitely going to be kinks to work out. There were definitely going to be conversations that needed to happen. But the truth of it all was that you loved the two of them more than you could make sense of, and being together was all that really mattered to you. The rest could come later. The rest could come at any time. The first step is admitting something, you thought, and couldn’t help but feel like this was progress. You couldn’t wait to see them with Dacreval, together. Dettlaff’s energy was soaring when he lifted you up on his other side, and the three of you were gone. 

-

Dettlaff brought the three of you back to Corvo Bianco, and set Regis down, before tossing you on the bed and you bounced on the mattress. Dettlaff lobbed your nightgown at you. “I suppose you can get back into this, _darling._ ” 

You felt alarmed when you looked outside and saw that the sun was already hanging low in the sky. “What? What time is it?”

“It was nearly four when you rose," Regis shrugged, "I hadn't the heart to wake you.” 

You felt your eyes squint at him and smile, “You mean you were enjoying watching me sleep too much to wake me.” 

Dettlaff snorted at Regis’ blush, and you used the bounce you got from Dettlaff falling onto the mattress as a means to rise to your feet and walk to your dresser. You weren’t putting a nightgown on again. You didn’t have your first lesson with Yen until tomorrow night so you wouldn't need to go to bed soon, and after The Land of a Thousand Fables, you were nearly keen on avoiding nightgowns altogether. As you finished tossing on a blouse and breeches, you made for the stairs.

“Be right back!” you called behind you, almost worried that they might disappear if you left them alone for too long, as you ran down the steps of your loft and into the dining room of Corvo Bianco. “Geralt!” 

The dining room was empty, and you let yourself breathe once, before knocking on Geralt’s door. “Hey, are you in here?” 

You put your ear to it and heard the sounds of Geralt baby talking Dacre and cleared your throat. “ _Geralt!”_

“Oh, hey,” You heard him call, “come in!”

You opened the door to his room and saw the witcher bent over, holding Dacreval’s hands and trying to get him to take steps. Shaking your head and suppressing a giggle, you leaned your weight on the door frame, “Isn’t it a little early for him to be taking his first steps?”

“You never know.” He picked Dacre up under his armpits and walked him over to you, knowing what you’d come here for. You smiled a thank you to him, truly grateful for all the love he showed your son, and turned to leave, but a hand reached your shoulder and turned you back around. 

“Uh,” Geralt put his hands behind his back and kicked his foot out, straight legged, “Can we, uh, talk?”

You felt your eyes get wide and he laughed at your expression.

“Just, _sit_ , will you?” he asked, and planted himself on the bed, allowing his body to sprawl backwards and sighed loudly. You felt yourself eyeing the ceiling as you walked over to the chair at his desk, kissing Dacreval on the cheek before setting him down. To your surprise, he _stood_ on his own. _He couldn’t do that last night_ , you looked at your little miracle in wonder, _maybe he_ is _ready to start trying to take steps._ You beamed up at Geralt, but he was just finally rolling over and returning himself to an upright position. 

He let his face fall into his right hand and rubbed it. Finally he looked up at you and offered, “I’m really sorry about Yen, Maina.”

Your head cocked back, _“Oh,_ that’s okay.”

Something was turning in your gut and your brows turned down in thought. You picked Dacre up and held him to your body, thumbing his chubby little cheeks. _What did Geralt have to apologize for?_

“It’s not like any of this is your fault,” you smiled tepidly at him, and the Witcher nodded thoughtfully. You lowered your head trying to make eye contact with him or catch his gaze in any way, “Geralt?”

He knocked his head quickly, coming out of a daze. “Yeah, yeah. Hey,” his eyes went to Dacreval, “Um, I have a lot of workers here during the day and Yen thinks that maybe it’s not safe for you to be here until you know how to not, er,”

 _Kill people._ You thought. _Had Geralt not known any of these details? Had Yen really kept your secrets?_

“What are you suggesting?” you asked. 

The Witcher was visibly relieved that you understood his meaning. 

“I don’t know, to go somewhere with less people, for now. She said you’re more likely to pull people in now that you’ve been there recently.” 

“I really wish she would entrust some of this information with _me_ , you know.”

“I _know_ ,” Geralt replied seriously, “so do I.” 

He was still eyeing Dacre, who was putting his hands on your face and giggling at you, you smiled back at him, and nudged his little nose with your own. “Oh I love you so, so, so much my little angel.” 

Geralt cleared his throat, “I think you should be careful about what Yennefer wants to teach you in that whatever the fuck it’s called place, too. Seems dangerous.” 

You tore your eyes from Dacreval, “I had the same feeling.”

He nodded, then got back to his point.

“Anyway, doesn’t Dettlaff own that woman’s, er, Orianna’s mansion now in Beauclair?” he asked. _Was that why he was there earlier?_ You wondered. It had seemed odd to you that he would go there on his own. You started bouncing your baby on your knee. 

“Yeah,” you replied, then held your breath, “or something like that. Maybe in weird vampire terms he does. I honestly think Orianna owes him a debt, too, or something.” 

Both your and Geralt’s eyebrows raised before rolling your eyes and shaking your heads. Geralt barked a laugh and nodded his head. 

“Alright, yeah,” he tossed a hand in the air, “so maybe that’s a good place to stay for now.” 

You nodded, eyes going to the ceiling and a smirk crossing your face, “I mean it seems like a pretty good idea to me.”

The expression on Geralt’s face made the smile on your own falter, though. He was just sadly looking at Dacreval. 

_Oh_. Your heart leapt, and you swallowed, trying to rid yourself of any smiling or other such nonsense before you cleared your throat. 

“You _know,”_ you started, kissing Val on his forehead, “I could use some regular swordplay training.”

Geralt nodded in sober agreement and added, _“desperately.”_

You shook your head, biting your smile.

“O _kay_ ,” you began again, “I _desperately_ need some training. I could also use some help with deciphering Yennefer’s cryptic...syntax.” You had no idea what you meant by that, she spoke just fine. Still, you continued.

“Not to mention while Regis, Dettlaff, and I sleep we’ll need someone to watch Dacreval from a safe enough distance that I won’t pull him in anywhere,” that was also not entirely true, Yen had given Regis a recipe to prevent it, _still._

“...and I’m fairly certain my son won’t stand to be away from his godfather.” you ended. Geralt nodded his head, arms crossed, sitting on his bed. His lip was twitching, and he closed his eyes before he shook his head. 

“That an invitation?” he asked, still shaking his head at the floor. When he looked up at you, you raised a brow at him. 

“I’ll go along on some witcher contracts even, if you come stay with us.” You immediately wanted to kick your own ass for offering that solely for the ridiculous _grin_ that flashed across Geralt’s face before it disappeared entirely.

“Hmm,” He hummed, thinking or pretending to, “Yeah. Sure. Guess I could help.” 

“Great!” you beamed.

Throwing your head back in a little cackle, you stood and walked to the door with your son in your arms, “I’ll see you tomorrow. I need to take Mers out for a ride or he’ll kill me.” 

You took one of your son’s tiny hands and waved it towards the Witcher. 

“Hey Maina,” Geralt’s voice interrupted your closing of his door. You sighed, looking again to the ceiling anxiously, but then felt bad for feeling like you wanted to hurry this conversation up. You reopened the door, slightly.

“Yeah, Geralt?” you asked him in the most reassuring voice you had. 

“I really am sorry about Yen,” he sighed, “I’ve been pretty in the dark about this myself, but I should have told you that she wanted me to watch your dreams.” He ran a hand through his white hair, currently unkempt and hanging by his shoulders, “I think we should probably discuss what she tells us from now on, because I feel like something might be up.” 

He nodded towards the ceiling, “Maybe let them in on that, too.” 

A wave of appreciation washed over you for your friend, and you smiled. “Yeah, Geralt. I will.” You put your hand on the door knob, “Thank you.”

He smiled at you as you closed the door. 

Walking back to the stairs Dacreval’s tiny face lit up at the sight of you carrying him, and yours lit up at him smiling at you. Then you saw, between his lips, the first tiny little tooth popping through his gums.

And it was sharp as hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after rereading this it seems obvious to me that i had male pectorals on my mind today


	40. ART [AV/ValxDettlaffxMaina]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have made some goods today!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also look at our maina!!
> 
> Enjoy, y'all!!!


	41. Moving Prepositions Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maina uncovers something unexpected, Regis continues to grow and becomes more stern in wanting a family, Dettlaff has to deal with the fact that he will not always be completely in control over Maina's safety, and Dacreval grew a new tooth! 
> 
> Pt. 1 of 2. 
> 
> Pt. 2 should be finished and up by tomorrow.
> 
> Enjoy and stay safe out there, y'all!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY! I just edited this (yeah I know I'm a monster who edited hours post posting) at @1:30 am central time (yes I know I'm a monster who needs to sleep, too) and it is infinitely better in the Regis convo department.

Marlene had just walked back into the kitchen, and the two of you exchanged a smile before she stirred her pot, wiped her hands on her apron, and announced she was running to the garden. She sounded rather excited as she walked right back out of the kitchen, and the emotion was contagious. You really liked her. You didn’t know how else to put it other than you simply, really liked her. She spent how many years as a wight? And instead of spending her days wallowing over lost time, as one would have every right to do, she chose to fully indulge in her lust for life. Not only that, but by doing something that she had longed for and been deprived of as a wight: cooking for others.

You thought that _that_ was excruciatingly powerful, and she had every ounce of your respect for it. Not to mention she was, in fact, an incredibly skilled cook. Most times you stayed out of the kitchen not because you didn’t want to make anything, but because you felt like a right oaf next to her in here.

Dacreval was sitting upright on the counter, intermittently gnawing on a wooden spoon and hitting it on the cutting board. You finished cleaning your plate and walked over to him, smiling up at you with his _two_ sharp bottom teeth. His second one broke his gums last night, shortly after the first. 

“Hello my little sweetheart,” you smiled and his eyes got wide in laughter. Dettlaff was working on a way to stop those teeth from cutting into your nipples. You were up for anything, honestly. There were apparently glass devices that could suction milk from your breasts, and you were alright with that. It did make you sad, though, the thought of you losing the intimate interaction of feeding your son yourself. 

Spoon lodged between gum and teeth, he lifted his pudgy arms at you, wanting to get picked up. His tiny little cheeks were so round and soft, and when he smiled they dimpled like yours did. You lifted him to your waist and the two of you giggled. You couldn’t get over the size of his little chin and jaw. It was just enough to notice that they were bigger than an average baby’s, and you thought it made him look _very_ much like his father...and _that_ sent your heart flying.

He waved his spoon and made the most incredible, happy noises that could ever exist - satiated and with his mother. Complete bliss. 

Thinking about it, you weren’t certain how much you were actually going to _need_ the breast milk device. You were fairly certain your nipples had changed. They _looked_ the same...but earlier that morning when you went to feed him, his little teeth didn’t break skin. You could feel the pressure of them, but there was no actual _blood_ or sign that it stressed the area. 

A shiver ran down your spine at the thought of how extensively the vampire’s of Tesham Mutna must have bred their humans. A wooden spoon gripped by a petite hand with too long fingers lightly whisked by your head and broke your train of thought.

 _“Oh-kay,”_ you grabbed it from him and set it down, picking up a hunk of gouda as you walked out of the kitchen to the front door.

“Hey!” you stopped in your tracks, mouth full of cheese and Dacreval at your breast, to the sound of Geralt’s voice. 

_Shit,_ you thought to yourself, _I knew I should have stayed in that kitchen_ . Letting go of the front door handle and turning around to face the witcher, you saw that he was half regarding both yours and his armor where he sat eating breakfast. _So it would be today, then._

“Yes, Geralt?” you asked innocently, hoping that whatever it was it wouldn’t be the contract with the man and the monster and the engagement...

 _“You_ still gotta help me find that woman’s lover later this morning,” he spoke into his eggs, and the juice of fresh tomatoes started running down his chin. The eye contact was making you uncomfortable, considering. “So don’t go running off with them to Beauclair until that’s done.” 

Geralt waved his fork at the mess around Corvo Bianco. Regis and Dettlaff were packing all of the things you might need, for convenience. 

“I _know_ ,” you countered unnecessarily. _Why does it have to be today?_ “I just have to talk to Regis before we get going.” 

Geralt nodded at you, the beautiful morning sunlight highlighting the finesse in which he shoveled another heaping of Marlene’s shakshuka into his mouth. 

“He hasn’t left for the graveyard yet, has he? And dude, Geralt stop eating like that, it's disgusting.” 

“No, he hasn’t,” he looked up at you from his plate, grinning, “and don’t give me shit about how I eat, _dude_.”

He emphasized the word _dude_ in a mocking manner. 

_“Oh,”_ you threw up your arm that wasn’t holding Dacre, “so now _you’re_ the only person who ever uses the word _‘dude’?”_

“No,” he stood, wiping his beard of fruity red entrails and smiling, “I just haven’t heard you use it in some time. You know, since you’re all mom and lover now and…”

“Geralt just get the armor ready.”

“Watch your tone, _dude,”_ he looked at you deadpan and you felt yourself stiffen immediately. Your hairs stood on end. _Was that going too far?_ Every once in a while, there was something he would do that reminded you of how much deadlier he was than most of the world. He was still watching you when a satisfied expression broke across his face and he laughed. 

“Relax, Maina,” he shook his head, smugly, “I was just kidding. Sorry for eating like a pig, I guess, too. _Go_. Talk to Regis ...and give me that baby, please.” 

The _gall._

“What?” he asked as you gave him Dacreval, “Look, it’s dangerous in the cellar and he can practically walk on his own, now.” 

“Mmmm _hmmm,”_ you replied over your shoulder, walking out the front door. He was lucky you didn't actually like taking Dacreval into the cellar, or there was no way you'd just hand him over after _that_ display. 

The sun was nearly blinding as you stepped outside, and were not pleased that it was hardly cooler or less humid out than it had been. You supposed you were used to late summers in the north being more mild. Across the yard in the stable you could see Dettlaff packing something, and felt that his energy was...well, it felt annoyed - or that was the best way you thought you could describe it.

_I wonder when he’ll get the opportunity to smoke out without any of the workers noticing._

The thought of him looking around, surreptitiously checking for the coast to be clear caused you to chortle as you skipped down the steps and opened the cellar door. Immediately you felt the cool air that you had been hoping to find outside in the damp, dark alchemy room. 

But Regis wasn’t there, so you walked along the dimly lit corridor to the end of the hall to the large storage room where he kept his cot and found him. He was in the middle of meticulously packing his surgeon’s bag by the light of several lit candles. 

“Good morning, Maina,” the vampire’s voice carried over his shoulder, not breaking the methodical fluidity of his movements. You could hear a smile in his voice and it caused you to sigh in relief.

“Good morning,” you skipped down the steps to the base of the room where he stood and walked over to him, “you didn’t stay with us last night.” 

“Well the bed was hardly big enough and I had some things to tend to,” he replied, joylessly. Your pace slowed to a halt and you sat on his bed. 

“Oh,” you sighed, beginning to feel anxious. _Was this a bad time?_ You took a breath, _it’s Regis. He wants to be around you, Maina._ “Well, did you at least finish what you set out to do?”

Immediately you realized that had not been the question he wanted you to ask. His shoulders tensed, making his movements all the more rigid before he replied a curt, “Hardly.”

He finished packing his bag, closed it, and turned his eyes on you - taking you in, finally. You watched as his face lost its tension and became softer. A smile started to pitter on his lips as he bent over and picked you up in an embrace. 

His arms were very tightly woven around you, and you could feel the scruff of his sideburns on your neck when he spoke into it, “You make my life so much more bearable, Maina.” 

You were taken aback by the abruptness of the statement, and wrapped your arms around him, too, and pushed his head further into your body with your hands, _“Good.”_

Finally, he set you back on his cot and leaned his weight on the bedside table. You shifted, thinking of how to ask him what you wanted to ask him. When your eyes met, he released his bottom lip from where it sat pinched between his thumb and forefinger, then smiled and gave you a look. 

“I’m under the distinct impression that there is a matter _other than_ my sleeping habits you wanted to discuss?”

You nodded, mesmerized by the swirling black wells of his eyes. _Here it goes._

“Regis what did Yennefer want to talk to you about?” you could hear that it came out an entreaty. The older vampire pursed his lips, one of his brows arching. 

“Ah, yes,” he began, a long vampiric finger scratching the back of his jaw just below his facial hair, “our dear sorceress.”

You gave him pleading eyes, and he smiled. 

“It was nothing, Maina,” his tone was reassuring, “or rather inconsequential, at least.” He sighed, pushing his weight off of the bedside table before he continued.

“She wanted to know whether or not _you_ and _I_ were going to be,” he averted his gaze, “now that we’re involved, if we,” and you could swear he was blushing. Regis stopped and cleared his throat.

“If we were trying to get pregnant?” you asked bluntly and Regis’ face _did_ color - then his chest rose. You watched as he shamelessly let his eyes dance across you, causing him to bite his lower lip and his nostrils to flare. You shifted in your seat from the physical response of it all.

He shook his head, a tad, as if bringing himself down from a high before taking a more sobered look on his face.

“Yes,” he cleared his throat, but his eyes were darting about your features before meeting your gaze and widening. You saw his jaw flex, and he was beginning to look beside himself all over again. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply, letting out a small chuckle.

“Are you aware,” he started as he planted himself next to you and, wrapping an arm around you, pulled you down to the mattress next to him, “of how difficult it is for me to focus on other things when around you?”

Your insides burned up as he brushed his nose against yours before kissing your forehead. You were fairly certain you knew what he meant, thinking of his deep, dark eyes. A smile spread across your face and you tittered, “Actually, _yes._ I do.”

“Right,” Regis reminded himself as the rosy color returned to his cheeks, “Yennefer. She made it clear that she disapproves of us...how did she put it, _reproducing,_ for the time being.”

Something in your stomach was knotting up as he finished the last sentence. 

“Then,” he went on, “she proceeded to hand me a solution for me to brew for you.” 

The knot was tightening. 

“I won’t take it,” you cut in, feeling your heartbeat quicken and your face heat.

“She thought you might say that,” he sighed, and you could feel that he was _very_ tense, “and informed me to administer it to you in clandestine or otherwise, were that the case.”

His interlocking teeth made a _clicking_ sound when he finished the statement, and it made you shiver.

“Without me _knowing?”_ you asked, terrified. Regis nodded, now staring blankly at the ceiling. 

“Indeed,” he said flatly to the top of the cellar.

“What did you say?” you asked him, your chest pushing up to meet the side of his torso in quickening intervals. You felt his arm tighten around you and when he looked down at you, he propped his brows up. 

“Naturally, I told her to _fuck off,”_ his voice was confident and nonchalant, he pursed his lips, “in so many words, and that she’s quite fortunate to be involved at this juncture, despite how enlightening her help may be.”

He closed his eyes, drew a breath, and sighed. It looked like he was slightly ashamed. 

“Admittedly I did allow my temper to get the better of me.” Regis looked down at you, arm tightening around your neck and shoulders, his eyes becoming unfocused before he closed them, drawing a breath, “but when it comes to the prospect of my future family,” he squeezed you tighter, and you could feel him taking you in, _smelling_ you, and exhaled, “I take no issue in extreme protective measures.” 

He took a deep breath, again, and this time held it a little too long. To the point where you thought, maybe, he had meant to say something else. Something _more_. 

Looking up at him, you thought you were right, and wanted him to know that he can talk to you. Can tell you things. You felt your heart ache from seeing his reservation, and put your hand to his face, feeling his coarse skin where it met his facial hair. 

“Was that all she had to talk to you about?” you asked, your voice sounding muffled to your ears. The vampire drew back his face further to look you in the eyes, his lips parted - his jagged fangs interlocked, only slightly tensed, before he pursed his lips once more. 

Closing his eyes, he shook his head, “No,” he divulged, before reopening them. 

His gaze found yours again, and you had stared at each other for more than a few moments when you finally broke the heavy silence, “you can always speak to me.”

“I will,” he said, his voice sounding more confident than it had a moment ago, “but for now…” he sighed, “it seems I am unready.” 

Wrapping your arms tighter around him, you held him to you and took in his sweet herbal scent, “take as much time as you need, Regis.”

You thought, perhaps, that whatever it was he couldn’t yet say really was burdening him when he only half growled at the sound of his name. A sigh escaped you when you remembered Geralt, and Regis looked down at you with his head cocked. 

“I have to go help Geralt with something,” you didn’t sound very enthused.

-

_“Ger_ alt,” you groaned, pouting as the witcher did up your buckles, annoyed that it took you so long, “why do we have to do this today?”

You watched as red and black billows of smoke whisked to and from Corvo Bianco where the two of you stood in front of the stable. It wasn’t even _noon_ yet, you thought. 

“Someone’s anxious about getting to their _mansion,”_ Geralt teased just as your torso lurched backwards a few inches from his tightening a buckle. 

“Seriously, Geralt,” you didn’t want to have to go looking for some dumb ass man who thought he could win the heart of a woman he was already engaged to by bringing her the head of a monster. It didn’t even make sense. “Also, does this contract not sound ridiculous to you?”

Geralt’s coarse chuckle challenged you not to laugh. “Yeah,” he replied, “it _does_ sound ridiculous.” He patted your shoulders to let you know you were good to go and, stretching your arms out to your sides, turned around to look at him. “The reason we’re doing this today is because I was supposed to have this finished it _days_ ago, but got sucked into a book, remember?”

You sighed. 

“And _you_ need to work on your Aard. Possibly even see if you can’t do anything else. Kinda wanna get an idea of what we’re working with.” He walked over to Roach and mounted her as you strapped on your silver. He frowned, “Can’t hurt to have you in more control of yourself.” 

Letting your eyes fall from where they had been squinting up at him, you kicked the cobblestone with your copper toed boots. _Damn it._ He was right, of course. It was true, you did just want to go to Beauclair with your two vampires and your baby. Your three vampires. You also were fairly curious about fitting the three of you in one of those beds…your eyes got wide and you swallowed, before hurrying to Mers, who’s energy was in a state of elation. 

“Oh I missed you too!” you reminded him again as you inconspicuously toed the footstool closer and used it to hop on his back. Geralt was pointedly _not_ looking at you as you did so. 

Pushing Mers and Roach to a trot, you began your way through the Corvo Bianco vineyard, but you found your eyes were trailing the sky at Dettlaff’s black and Red smoke, longingly. He certainly enjoyed making multiple trips, you thought. There was a definite pull, a desire, to have more children with him, and it was difficult at times to remind yourself that the two of you had _time_ for that. 

“Seriously? _Maina_ ,” Geralt chided from where he sat trotting along on roach, nodding to the wisp of smoke, “I’m still recovering from the goodbye the two of you had a few minutes ago. You’ll be fine. You’ll see him by this evening at the latest.”

You huffed in response to that, and the two of you brought your horses to a gallop. 

-

The sun was now hanging in the west just enough to beat down on your face. A warm breeze carried with it the floral smell of the Toussaint countryside, and, to your left, Beauclair palace jutted erectly in the sky. It was awe inspiring, that palace...you weren’t certain if you would ever get over the many spires, the bright red brick, the gardens. It was ridiculous. You wanted to be in Beauclair. Which reminded you…

“How much longer do we have to go, yet?” you called up to the white haired witcher, who was whistling and eating cured salami. A large chunk of it now hurtling back towards you, and your hand caught it mid air before your mind realized that it had gone for it. You stared at it in your hand before finally putting it in between your teeth and tearing off a bite. _Damn,_ you thought, readdressing the piece of food, _that’s pretty good._ “Thanks,” you called up to him. 

“We’re almost there,” he replied, head scanning the field, “or at least I think.”

 _Great,_ you sighed, and looked over towards the palace again before it disappeared behind brightly green and yellow hills, then the first trees of a sparse forest. Not long afterwards, you felt something. A dark turmoil began rising in you...it was an energy. Geralt dismounted, and you slowed Mers to a stop, hopping off and following his lead.

“Medallions humming,” he stated tersely as you followed him up a small hill through the brush. 

“I can feel it,” you replied, mimicking his steps, and the witcher cast a glance over his shoulder at you.

“Hmm,” he offered in approval before clearing the hill. Once at the top of the slope, the mouth of a cave appeared in the light speckled forest, and a man no older than thirty was sitting in a camp in front of it. Geralt stopped walking and looked back at you, grinning. “This should be good.” You cocked your head in amusement, and fiddled with your leather gloves. 

“Interesting place for a camp, isn’t it?” the witcher asked as the two of you reached the shaded tent. The man jumped awake at Geralt’s voice, apparently having not heard your approach. You couldn’t help but feel bad for him. It seemed to you like he’d gotten himself into a bit of a pickle. There was blood on his armor and his camp was ridiculously lavish...and now Geralt’s grin made more sense to you. 

“Who goes there?!” the man nearly shouted as he came to, his eyes still sleepy as they darted lethargically between the two of you, “speak!”

“Calm down,” the witcher said, putting his hands up, “Looking for a man named Francois. Wouldn’t happen to be him, would you?”

The man audibly sighed, but looked confused.

“I’m a witcher,” he started, and the man jumped back a few inches in his chair, so Geralt pummeled through the next bit of information.

“Your betrothed sent me,” Geralt went on, not waiting for him to speak, “said you up and left over a week ago to go slay some monster and haven’t been back since.” 

Geralt crossed his arms and took in the sight of the camp, knowingly. The man either panicked or became embarrassed or both, because he started talking at the speed of light.

“Yes, but,” he looked at the camp, “it is a _valiant_ beast that I set out to slay, and as such proper preparations are required.” 

Now you could tell that _you_ were smiling. There were books, and mounds of food, and _two_ separate rugs in place between the multiple chairs. You were pretty certain the man just wanted a vacation or an escape, and now if he ended it there would be the sidled embarrassment of not having a trophy upon his return. A giggle was bubbling in your chest even though you _did_ feel bad for him...it was just _quite_ the predicament he weaved for himself.

Despite your efforts, a chortle escaped you. 

Francois’ attention darted towards you indignantly, and you saw Geralt clasp his mouth in his hand suppressing _his_ chuckle now that Francois' attention was off of him. 

“And who might _you_ be, miss?” he asked, his accent making ‘miss’ sound like ‘meez’. It was pretty. It was pretty and this whole situation was pretty ludicrous. 

“Me?” you asked, looking at Francois to Geralt. You couldn't say _witcher_ , and the man wouldn’t understand what a _Door_ was and certainly no more than you did. You decided you’d just go with _Door_ and let it be cryptic. “I’m a Door.” 

“A _what_ was this now?” the man asked, his face scrunching as he looked back and forth between the two of you. Geralt simultaneously rolled his eyes at you and slapped his forehead with his hand. 

“A…” Geralt stared daggers at you for a moment before it eased, “a witcher’s _servant_ , is what she means.” 

You nearly gasped, and as Francois turned to you again, Geralt pursed his lips over his laughter, blocking its exit. _God damn him._

“So you will help me with the monster?” Francois asked, dubious and confused, but surprisingly upbeat, all things considered. 

Geralt frowned, and put his hands on his hips, “or you could just go _back_ to your fiance _without_ the head of a,” he looked around, sensing, “what kind of monster did you say it was, again?”

He man frowned, “it was tall and wooden, and grew roots, and had an unfortunate ugly old face, the chin was like-”

“A spriggan,” Geralt interjected, rubbing his chin and looking at you appraisingly as if deciding if you could handle it sighed, “hmm.”

Francois sounded scandalized by the suggestion, “A _sprigging?_ Why! This is Grottore! No mere beast of...of…” he started looking around before landing on Geralt again, “a, what did you call it again?” 

“Spriggan,” he repeated himself to the man, looking altogether much too entertained. 

“That! No mere beast of spriggan!” Francois finished, and Geralt pursed his lips over his smirk, lifting his eyebrows at you when Francois looked away. 

“Right,” Geralt started again, “so why don’t you go back to your fia-”

“Jacquette,” the man corrected and the witcher sighed. 

“Go back to _Jacquette,_ and live happily ever after _without_ the monster head?”

Francois frowned and threw up his hands, getting overwhelmed. 

“Then how will she know that I truly love her?!” 

You and Geralt exchanged a look that informed you he, too, realized the underlying problem. 

“You don’t want to marry her,” you both stated flatly. 

“What?!” the man gasped, again, “how dare you! I...I...I am deeply in love! And I will have my show for it!” 

With that, the Toussaint man known as Francois stood from his seat and marched in the direction of the cave, and the two of you followed him. 

/\\_~.~_/\

The laboratory of the crow building was dank, cold, and felt rather like home to the older vampire, who had finished sifting through his belongings - figuring out which he would want to have at the ready, although he didn’t think it was overall very important what he brought with him to the mansion. He wouldn’t be completely giving up his residence at the graveyard, he thought. He would, at least, visit often. He enjoyed it here too much. He had all of his books here and the smell of the earth’s belly helped ease him. 

He knew that _she_ would rather live in the mansion, though, and he couldn’t help but admit to himself that providing for her what she wanted was becoming a need for him. An intrinsic need. What’s more, it brought him immense comfort. Pleasure. _Happiness,_ even. Well, maybe at least something close. Though he could feel it creeping. It was building, her impact on him, and he was grateful for it. He was grateful for the escape, or perhaps it was better described as an awakening. Either way, he was grateful for it.

Grateful and _curious_ about it. Something didn’t sit right with him as to why this was happening, and what Yennefer had told him only aroused his suspicions further. His dream had been painful, but after having had it, _twice_ , and the events that occurred in it being vastly different...it caused him to wonder. That is why he was currently pouring over the books shelved in his laboratory, trying to find anything he had on Dauk mythology or Krael’ef or _Doors_ that he could. He _would_ find the answer. This was a truth to him. He just didn’t know when. 

He thumbed the necklace that he kept on his chest and breathed deeply. He’d wanted to ask the red headed woman to wear it multiple times before, but had felt guilty. Was it wrong to want a past love represented on your current lover? Was it abandonment? Was it unfair to him, or Maina, or Amilie, or all three? All three, he was certain, but he wasn't sure if that was still in regards to the necklace, or the overall situation. He eyed the drawer in the desk with his closest belongings, and his hand went to it, before it faltered, and he dropped it. He wished that it would just disappear. He wished his necklace would just disappear. Disappear without his permission. Without his knowledge. Disappear in a manner or fashion that held him accountable by _no_ means. He sighed. 

The older vampire wanted to confide in the young redhead, but feared he might hurt her in some way. He told himself that he would never treat her like he had Amilie, and to that he would hold true. 

Finally, he sighed. The books he gathered would be enough for him to page through at least for tonight and tomorrow at the mansion before returning here to find others. The vampire had a fleeting hope that perhaps Maina would accompany him, as there was something very soothing to him about her being here. 

He gripped the leather pouch with its recently packed belongings and made for the mansion. Smiling, the vampire decided that perhaps, he would walk. 

-

Francois strutted deeper into the cave with you and Geralt lazily in tow. The man was still going on about honor or what have you when Geralt leaned closer to you. 

“Alright, so I told Dettlaff that this contract was more or less just us retrieving this guy, and spriggans are dangerous,” he whispered, “so don’t... die. Yeah. Don’t die, I guess.” 

You stared at him, annoyed, before looking up at the prancing man professing to the cave a speech of Jacquette’s love - which was actually rather good, “What the hell, Geralt. I thought you brought me along so we could work on my casting Aard.” 

“Settle down,” he looked up at Francois, “I _did_. Only instead I’m just going to need you to use it as...management. Francois management. Maybe spriggan management. Look just oversee the damn fight, okay? Your aard is ridiculously powerful so maybe try to be a little reserved if you need to fling this guy out of harms way.” 

_Ridiculously powerful?_ You liked hearing _that_. He was probably just buttering you up. Still…

“If you think my aard is powerful you should have seen whatever it was I did in Krael’ef…” you informed him, feeling a rush of pride.

“Yeah, whatever. Tell me about it later,” he finished and trotted up to Francois.

 _So rude,_ you thought. but could feel the energy getting closer and followed suit. 

As soon as you reached where Geralt and Francois were your attention turned to a rumbling noise below your feet and you jumped. The ground was rippling towards the three of you and Geralt pushed you over out of its way. 

As you fell you saw roots tear out of the dirt and grab Francois, who immediately began howling and flailing from it. Pushing yourself back up, you unsheathed your sword but Geralt was already there, releasing him. 

“Do you see it?” he asked, before casting igni and finished setting Francois free, who ran to the wall of the cave, swearing. 

“No,” you replied, crouched and searching for it. You knew what spriggan looked like, but that didn’t matter. You let yourself feel for it and pointed to a portion at the end of the cave that was covered in flowers, “there.” 

It almost came out a question. The flowers threw you for a loop.

Geralt nodded and charged, slicing the spriggan where it appeared, casting igni into the foliage for reasons beyond your comprehension. The spriggan made a noise that sounded ancient and unrestful before it bent its body and snapped it in a way that threw Geralt into the air at you. Panicking, you embraced the remnants of Ailma, letting the tension build in you, but cutting it off quickly before you cast aard at the back of the witcher, who halted mid air from the force of it and landed on his stomach with a groan. 

_“YEAH,”_ He shouted back to you over the noise of the spriggan’s creaking body, pushing himself to a standing position, _“THAT’S NOT EXACTLY WHAT I HAD IN MIND.”_

He threw igni at the spriggan again and you were amazed at how easily he did so. You looked over at Francois who was heeling the cave wall and yelled at him to run. He hesitated, but after another root system went barreling towards him obeyed your call. Just then you felt a rumbling under your left foot and something grabbed it, pulling your weight from under you and, hitting the dirt _hard,_ your vision went black. 

_-_-_-

You came to outside of the cottage and immediately knew where you were. The dead bodies were here again, this time. Quickly you looked around for the thing that always stalked you, but couldn’t find it. It was daylight, which was odd. It was never daylight in your dream. It looked like sunset was just about to occur, and you were looking around trying to figure out if this place looked like the north you were familiar with or not. Usually it looked like Redania, usually it looked exactly like the place where you had first been pulled here, into Krael’ef. 

You had become accustomed to avoiding looking at the ground whenever you dreamt of - came here, so you were surprised at yourself when the clothing of one of the dead caught your eye and you let your curiosity get the better of you. 

You had never in your life seen that particular style of clothing. You had never in your life seen the person whom that body would have been, either. 

_What is happening, here?_

The sound of two voices shouting at each other broke your train of thought. They were obviously in an argument. You crouched, not wanting to be seen, and it was very unpleasant, considering the smell and faces of the bodies were now that much closer. You still didn’t know how to _leave_ Krael’ef on your own, and you hoped that that mirror would be in the cottage. 

Suddenly you were very certain that you knew one of those voices. 

It belonged to Regis. 

You crept over, weary of the unpredictability that was Krael’ef and not altogether convinced that this really was Regis, you peered through the window. 

“I haven’t a clue what you are on about, dear,” a man who looked to be in his mid thirties, with hair nearly black and sideburns a handsome dark brown, stated defensively. 

A ceramic mug flew through the air and he dodged it with ease. It shattered against the wall behind him. 

“I _know_ you’ve been drinking blood, again,” she nearly screamed, her chestnut curls bouncing as she searched for her next projectile. “Why don’t you just admit it, Regis!”

She was on the verge of tears and looked desperate, and moisture in your own eyes was beginning to well as the man who was Regis yelled something back at her, only it was muffled, and becoming more so. You couldn’t properly hear either of them, and you rubbed your eyes, trying to see better. They were nearly shut from your squinting before you felt the sensation of being pulled backwards. 

-_-_-_

The perception of being extracted from Krael’ef caused you to turn over on the cave floor, head spinning. The din of two things colliding with each other was so loud it was nearly unbearable. Geralt was dragging you backwards before he picked you up altogether and made for the cave entrance. Peering over his shoulder into the cave you saw Dettlaff standing over the dead striggan then disappear. 

“Give her to me, witcher,” Dettlaff’s reappearing stony voice was commanding and lethal. 

“It’s not his fault,” you started, but through the haze of what you were fairly certain was a concussion, lost what you had intended to follow that up with and you felt your body being passed to a familiar energy, currently rippling and clashing with itself. 

You felt Dettlaff’s body rumble against you. “I know.” 

It was the most threatening sounding agreement you had ever heard. Then you were gone. 


	42. Moving Prepositions Pt. II - Saccharine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dettlaff and Maina have many a conversation before he takes her to their new home. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Stay safe out there!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is six and a half thousand words of Dettlaff.
> 
> CW's at the end. Pretty standard stuff.

You woke with your head aching and Dettlaff looking down at you, your face in a large hand. His steely blue gray eyes were pale, biting, and drenched in concern. His handsome jaw was tense and the lines on his forehead exaggerated in being pulled so tautly to the bridge of his nose. As you looked up at him you saw his face relax with his energy, slightly.

Taking in your surroundings, it was clear that you were in one of the bedrooms of the graveyard’s crow building. You were laying on the bed in your small clothes, covered in a blanket. “Why are we?”  
“I sensed Regis was still here,” Dettlaff replied, his eyes searching your face before closing slowly and sighing, “or not far off. I wanted him to take a look at you.”

You eyed the empty glassware on the table next to the bed, wondering how badly your head would be aching without whatever it was Regis had concocted. Dettlaff shifted, and your eyes darted back to meet his steely greys. 

His gaze felt very much like his energy, and his energy was, at best, _severely_ intense. You felt like you were being pushed from all sides inward just being close to your mate, and it tore into your heart thinking that you had caused it. 

“Dettlaff I’m sorry,” you told him, and he tore his eyes from yours and stood quickly, walking to the open window where light was pouring in.

“I knew I should not have allowed this,” his dark leather frock coat swung idly in the breeze flowing into the space. The sunlight from the window hit the side of his cheekbones and illuminated them. You noticed that his large hands were tensing and untensing when he spoke next, “I should have gone with.”

“Dettlaff I promise I wouldn’t let myself get that hurt, I just...” you trailed off.

“Let yourself,” he spoke slowly, and his voice was deep and bellowing while his body was growing ever tenser, “Get. That,” you saw his upper body constrict and start to ripple, _“Hurt.”_

He slammed his fist into the floor. The curves of his shoulders moving, his face morphing, turning into the clawed, fanged version of himself. “Maina,” he hissed despairingly to the stone below him.

“Dettlaff…” you didn’t know what to say, but it was breaking your heart seeing him this upset over your safety. You wondered how he ever got through the land of a thousand fables this way. His energy was frightening you. 

“What do you think will happen to me if I allow you to get hurt?” his voice was beginning to shake uncontrollably.

“Honey, I-”

“What about Dacreval? What about our son?” 

His chest was heaving, and he slammed his fist into the floor once more, causing you to jump. 

“The witcher lied to me.” 

“He didn’t know, Dettlaff, and he wouldn’t let me get hurt,”

“He is too weak to make claims like that,” your large mate spat the words in contempt.

That hit you somewhere, especially after being reminded today of how weak _you_ were compared to Geralt. 

“Oh,” your voice came out smaller than you wanted it to, “but not as weak as me.”

You felt tears in your eyes and knew that, maybe, you were projecting. 

Dettlaff’s monstrous face turned up at you, and his steely gray eyes were even more jarring in this form, “do _not_ call yourself that.”

“What?” you heard your voice teetering, now. “I didn’t call myself that. _You_ did.”

“You are not weak,” Dettlaff stood, claws moving as he flexed, frustrated, “You are fragile.” 

“And useless,” you added. 

_“MAINA,”_ his voice rose to a level that shook the room as his clawed fist slammed into the wall. _“ENOUGH.”_

You whimpered at the noise, feeling that you made your words a truth and were living up to them. Dettlaff saw you cower and folded, unable to take it. 

“Maina,” he spoke kneeling into the stone below him, fists balled against it and it sounded like it was nearly going to crack under the pressure, “I can’t lose you.”

You had gone too far, you thought. You should have let him speak without interrupting...you knew it was frustrating for him. _Impossible,_ even, to get the words out otherwise. He rumbled.

“Please,” Dettlaff looked so broken when he spoke, again, into the floor. “I do not like the sorceress, and I do not trust her plans for you.”

The desperation in his voice was so great that you could hardly tell it was him who was speaking. It had been so long since you saw him in such a vulnerable state. Guilt was welling inside you and you went to stand, causing his head to snap towards you as you did. His energy told you, you thought, that he was worried about you moving around too much. You also thought that was probably unnecessary worry, but you couldn’t stop him from loving you, nor would you want to try. You continued to him.

You knelt down and held his shoulder with your hand, your other going to cup his large face. When his steely grey eyes met yours, his form started to change again, until he was looking more like the Dettlaff you knew best. As soon as he had changed back he used his now clawless hands to grab you and pull you in tightly to him. Breathing in the smell of you, feeling you with those hands. His large face was pressed up tightly against your clavicle and you felt moisture there. Something wet. “Maina,” he whispered, and you pressed your hand into his hair lovingly, holding him fiercely to your body, taking in his heavy scent of cedar. 

“Would you like to come along, next time?”

Dettlaff’s body shook under your arms, and it took a second for you to notice he was chuckling. 

_No,_ you realized, _he isn’t chuckling._ His body was simply heaving. You held him tighter, but his body had become so stiffly rigid that you weren’t sure he was breathing at all until he finally gave you a reply. 

“I do not want to be a burden to you, Maina,” his body rose and fell erratically, “I do not want you to live your life with me looming over you. _Obsessively.”_ His voice cracked and he held you tighter - you felt his long nails dig slightly into your sides, “but I can see no other way for me to live,” his pitch went up at the end of the last statement to a baritone before plunging back into the depths of his heady bass-like register. “I want you to be full.” His massive, muscular chest was pushing up against you, nearly uncomfortably and you stroked his hair. “I fight the urge to kill, to eliminate threats,” he was sounding distant and you continued stroking his hair, letting him ride this out, not wanting to interrupt for comfort, for anything, “because I am a monster, Maina.” You inhaled _sharply_ at his words. “You and our son are all that I have,” he sucked in air and his body went rigid again, before he expelled it back out in increments. You thought he had art, and woodworking, and Regis, too, and maybe even Geralt - in fact he had a great many talents and creatures who cared about him, but you would save those comforting words for after his thoughts were through. You held him for a long time, wanting to be certain that there was nothing else he had to say that he was still trying to find the words to. 

“I have to keep you from harm, Maina,” his voice was deep and quiet, “there is no other course for me.” 

His hands started moving about you senselessly until his mouth found yours and he kissed it before he kissed the side of your face forcefully - _sloppily_ , and he added, “help me to do so without driving you away.” 

“Dettlaff,” you rolled your face so that your foreheads were together, your noses side by side - the end of his pushing lightly into the place where your nostrils met your cheek, and you laced your fingers with his extensive ones, “Darling,” you used his own pet name, “I feel you with every ounce of me,” you cupped his handsome, angular face with your other hand, enjoying it underneath your palm and fingers, and he closed his eyes to your touch. “Your presence is a blessing, Dettlaff,” he stirred, and tried to pull his face away, but you pulled as much as you could back, keeping him right where he was, “I mean that,” you told him. 

“Don’t lie,” his voice hardly came out at all as he said it, and for a moment, you thought you had imagined him speaking it. How could he think this about himself? Still? After all of this. Who had made him feel this way? You wanted to break them, whoever they were, even though you knew that was wrong. 

“I _mean_ it, honey. You do so well. _So_ well,” you closed your eyes, aching from his pain. His energy felt so confused. He had been doing so well, he _was_ still doing so well. He always did so well. “Yes, you have seemed more worried since returning from the land of a thousand fables, but that doesn’t…”

_Wait._

“Dettlaff,” you started, slowly, and he stirred uncomfortably. “Why did you dream of your mother?”

His body stilled, and he went to pull his face away again, this time letting himself be successful. You stared up at him before his large chest encompassed your vision and you were being pulled upwards and back onto the bed. He held you upright and against him in his arms where he sat, and his steely gray eyes, now thoroughly bloodshot, searched yours. 

“Do we need to know these details about each other?” he asked seriously, finding his voice sternly in his communication. You were _impressed_ by the fluidity of it, his words, and you felt your heart being set aflame in satisfaction and _pride_ , before you assessed their meaning. His gaze was still on you, piercingly. His dark curls peeking out of his jacket’s tall, dark collar. His temples no longer working themselves next to the gray strands of his hair. He was searching you for your answer to his question, and you realized that his question had been, indeed, a very real one.

 _Did we?_ You had pondered over this a lot in the past - whenever you found yourself wanting to know more about him. His history. But whenever he would hesitate to indulge you or before you could even ask, you felt acutely afraid of reciprocating the information, and became grateful overall for not having to explain _your own_ background. Your _own_ history. 

Indeed, it had been so that you found comfort in the blindness of your and his love, defying anyone who tried to claim for themselves the notion that your past made you who you are. You and Dettlaff defied it by simply being unaware.

But now you questioned it. As he stared down at you, you wandered in his eyes, and the warm touch of his large hands that held you securely on the lap that was, to you, a safe place. Now you couldn’t help but think that you’d been wrong. That keeping your past from him wasn’t defying it, only avoiding it...and what you avoid controls you. 

You hated being vulnerable, being truly vulnerable. It never helped you, in the end. It only ever allowed a gate into yourself for others to enter and take advantage of. To twist you and turn you. The large hands around you squeezed you, and you realized that you were both just prisoners of your own past, not really moving forward or beyond. Just avoiding.

Those steely blue gray eyes were in your vision again, you could never help but find them. You knew that you would always love him. He was somehow a part of you. It was as natural a feeling as breathing. You couldn’t abandon him, or not stay, no matter what. He had your back and you had his, and if you didn’t have that...what did you have? What _could_ you have?

“Yes,” you answered, swallowing to get rid of the creakiness in your voice. You cupped his large, beautiful face, “I think we do.” 

He closed his eyes and inhaled, opening them as he exhaled and piercing you with them, unintentionally. They were soft and worried, “Does it matter to either of us what the other has done?” 

You felt your brows pucker, and knew your answer immediately. 

“No,” you told him, “what you have done doesn’t matter to me at all, in terms of how I feel about you. In terms of how much I love you, Dettlaff.” His forehead tensed and his nostrils flared out and stayed there when his eyes flickered about an empty space in thought. You pulled his attention back to your face with the edge of your finger to his cheek, “but I do think that it matters to _ourselves.”_

His gaze danced in yours again, and he pursed his lips, closing his eyes, and the edge of his mouth began curling up, slightly.

“And if we don’t tell each other who we have been, and let the other love us despite it or even for it, _with it,_ then we can never truly feel loved or accepted.” 

When you finished speaking Dettlaff’s chest moved up gradually, and his eyebrows lifted in their middle, and he smiled, slightly before he sighed. You felt his energy smooth itself out, then he took another deep breath and looked down at you with such tenderness that you felt you could achieve anything. His thumb went to your face, as did his pupils - which were massive and trying to take every bit of your expression in all at once. When he spoke, his voice had regained it’s handsome, deep quality. 

“I’ve always told Regis that you are too precocious to truly be human,” his thumb brushed your lips, his eyes followed his movements. 

“Oh really?” you replied, feeling a small weight being lifted from you and in its stead a playful curiosity, “and what did he have to say about that?”

Dettlaff snorted, “he would deny it,” you watched as his eyes moved from the thumb that traced your face up to your eyes and interlocked with them, a smile blooming on his mouth, revealing his fangs, “but that old barber would deny anything that makes him feel insecure.” 

You started to laugh, and he leaned in to kiss you. 

“You are too good to be true,” he whispered into your neck, and you sighed. Then he pulled his face away, “I don’t think I am ready to talk about it now,” he said in contemplation. 

A frown tried to make itself known by you, but you pushed it away. “Why is that?”

“I do not know where to start, and I am tired, after…” he closed his eyes, “I’m not very good at this, Maina.” 

You certainly were aware of that. He _had_ expressed a lot today already. He even managed to not lash out at Geralt. The bud of your nose was tingling from your body’s inclination to produce tears. You loved Dettlaff so much it hurt, you felt. 

“You’ve done wonderfully,” you kissed him on his cheek, and he rubbed the spot absentmindedly with a grunt. It sounded like he was trying to mask his humble embarrassment with it. “I’m emotionally a little spent, too.”

He nodded, slowly. Arching a brow at you, and you ignored it or whatever it meant for the time being.

“I do think we should plan a time, then,” you said sternly and his reaction was unexpectedly priceless. 

Dettlaff’s brows popped up and one corner of his mouth slid all the way back like a curtain in incredulity. The effect was so goofy that you laughed, and he stared at you, following your head, which was swaying in that laughter, still looking at you like you’d said the most astounding thing in the world. 

_“You_ want to _set a time?”_ he asked. “You, who rest until the break of first light or noon on any given day, nearly bringing me into this chaos with you, would prefer to _set a time?”_

Your heart fluttered hearing him tell you things about yourself, and feigned acting like you felt completely scandalized. 

“Oh my god,” you let your eyes fill your vision with Dettlaff’s gleeful expression as he watched you laughing in response. You weren’t certain if you ever saw his face look like that, and it was beautiful. You hoped he would dig into you more often if it got him to look at you like this...him enjoying making you laugh. You started breathing more regularly and calmed yourself down. His eyes were still shining as they regarded you, looking down at you. 

You cleared your throat, “Well, I wasn’t aware you felt that way.” 

His smile widened, crookedly, then it became serious. 

“If a time is what you want,” he stroked your jaw, “then a time is what we will set.” 

He let himself take you in for a few more moments.

“When?” he asked. 

“I dunno,” you shrugged, and he tilted his head back in laughter. 

“Mmmmhmm,” he replied, “how does tomorrow work for you?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the two of you trying to carve out time from your nearly nonexistent schedules, and realized how much you’d been mooching off Geralt. 

“I need to find a job,” you sighed and your higher vampire’s eyes went wide and shut again in laughter. 

_“My_ Maina. Is that a yes or no on tomorrow?” he said, eyes still closed and face pointed towards the ceiling, finding his breathing.

“Yes, yes, it is,” you replied, curtly.

He rolled his eyes at you, and it was beautiful. 

“Hey,” you shifted on his lap, “you’re not still mad at Geralt, are you?”

The smile on Dettlaff’s face disappeared completely. 

“Dettlaff,” you started, hesitantly, “it wasn’t his fault.”

His body shook slightly, before he eyed you, and pursed his lips. His jaw went tighter than tight, and he had both his arms wrapped around you rolling the two of you next to each other on the mattress. His chest heaved and a great, low, rumbling noise escaped his body. It was incredibly loud, and it sounded like his version of a _very_ exasperated sigh. 

“I know,” he said. “I’m not going to kill the witcher. Our son likes him too much.”

You smiled. Although there was no way to be certain, you thought that maybe Dettlaff actually had grown to like Geralt a little bit, too. He almost always called him by his name, now, _and_ trusted him with Dacreval. That last part made you feel like you were certain. He at least tolerated him and acknowledged that he loved Val. 

“Speaking of which,” you started, “Dacre is with Regis, right?”

“Mmmhm,” Dettlaff replied. “Safe and sound. Though it seems today everyone else gets a piece of him.” 

Your vampire nuzzled your hair, and you were about to suggest going to go get your child when something else started gnawing at you. 

“Have you spoken to Regis about yesterday evening?” you asked, blushing, remembering how he watched the two of you. Dettlaff shivered, and his energy told you that it wasn’t in fright. But then it turned mellow. _Very_ mellow.

“No,” he sighed, “I think he is trying to avoid talking about it.”

You frowned. 

“I’m sorry, Dettlaff,” you kissed him, and rested your head on his large forearm, covered in worn in leather, looking into his face, “that probably hurts.” 

Dettlaff closed his eyes and hummed. His brows turned down and he bit his lip, nodding. 

“Oh, honey,” you pushed yourself further up the mattress to where his large face was and cupped the back of his head, kissing him on his forehead, “I am so sorry.”

He hummed again. 

“Do you want me to talk to him?” 

“I swear I can sense that he feels the same,” your vampire said into your chest, and your heart broke. He nodded a yes into you on your question. 

“He’s a little crazy about wanting a child of his own, right now,” you tried to comfort him, “I think it’s making him a little territorial.”

Dettlaff huffed into your body. Then a thought occurred to you.

“You've told him that you started taking something for your own potency, right?” you asked, not believing that you were clarifying this now and not sooner. 

You let go of his head and resumed your place on his forearm. Dettlaff looked at you and pursed his lips, shaking his head ‘no’.

Dettlaff was not incredible with vulnerability or expressing himself, sometimes. You wondered how getting to know him would have been if you hadn’t been able to feel his energy and he _wasn’t_ sensitive to you. It probably would have been very difficult. But he _was_ sensitive to Regis, and Regis _was_ sensitive to him, so he should be better suited for these conversations. On the other hand, though, you had been the opposite of Regis in your eagerness to requite his advances.

“I’ll talk to him,” you promised and Dettlaff sighed, bringing you in closer to him and kissing you. “Dettlaff,” you started, and he hummed. 

“Yes?”

“I was sent into Krael’ef, earlier, when I fell in the cave,” you swallowed, “Regis was there, and he was younger, and I think he was yelling with Amilie.”

You trailed off, not knowing much else of what to say. 

“I do not like that place,” Dettlaff gripped you to a point that was nearly painful, “I am sorry, Maina.”

“I don’t know how I left it,” you stated, blankly, “but I’m glad I did.”

“Will you ask the sorceress?” Dettlaff’s voice was threatening, again. 

“Yes, but it might be awkward if Regis is present,” you frowned.

“Do not worry about Regis,” his huskiness was reassuring, and he kissed the top of your head, “I will keep him in line.”

“That’s not exactly what I’m worried about,” you admitted.

“Then I will take him for a _walk_ when you talk to the sorceress about it.” His eyes strained, “A very short walk not far from you.” 

You chuckled, “Maybe Yennefer can just send him back early,” you suggested, and Dettlaff nodded, taking your lead. 

“How are you feeling, now?” he asked you, and you pondered it for a moment. Your head certainly didn’t hurt as much. 

“Better,” you replied.

He smelled your neck, “I think so, too.” 

“Would you like to?” 

“Yes,” he whispered, and you felt two large vampiric hands wrap around your shoulders, one at the side and another high up towards your neck, cradling your frame before the rough stubble of his face grazed you. You gasped ever so slightly as you felt his fangs flirt with the side of your neck just below your jaw. The top fangs pushed down, growing and elongating as they did until they broke your skin and he moaned, relaxing. You felt yourself get lightheaded from the sensation, which sent your extremities tingling and you closed your eyes, feeling him suck on you. His bottom jaw adjusted itself around your skin where his top stuck, and he sank his bottom fangs into you. He was _latched_ onto you. A low growl escaped him and you felt his tongue slide over your wet skin, before he bit down harder - his fangs sinking further into you.

One of your hands went to his thigh, and then another in haste. You realized you wanted him to _fuck you_ while doing this. He immediately understood the situation and bellowed, lustfully, and you felt his one hand leave your shoulder and remove your small clothes. You undid his pants and pushed them, with your feet, down his body as he ripped off his jacket and shirt.

Face still firmly planted on your neck, he gently pushed you under him, and brought the lower half of his body to yours, bending about his torso. You felt his erection dip between your legs and slowly slide between them, teasing you, before he aligned his hips with yours, and your hand ran down his muscular back until it found his ass and you pulled it towards you, and he let you move him. You felt his hands go to your thighs and hoist them up around his midsection before you continued pulling him towards you, until the tender, bulbous head of his hard cock slid between your lips and filled you, slowly. He let out a moan into your neck, and you closed your eyes feeling more lightheaded and overwhelmed than before. He rolled his hips and you felt him, stiff and eager inside you, hit the back of your pussy and you squeaked. A shiver ran through him, and one of his hands left your high and you felt it on your ass, grabbing you and pulling you further onto him and you felt his cock dig into you, hitting you deep within. You tightened around him without intending to, making you shudder - another moan escaped him into your neck where he breathed. Your body constricted again, feeling his hard dick twitch in response to it. 

“Dettlaff,” you moaned, and started touching yourself, you felt his fingers check at what you were doing and your mate growled, bucking in excitement. 

_“Yes, darling,”_ he groaned into you as you felt his fangs retract from your neck. He thrust against, slowly, and you felt every inch of him as he did...and that was _so much._ His hot breath caressed the place he had just bitten, before his lips kissed it. His hand went to please you and you let him, his other slid under the small of your back and when he bucked his cock into you again and it was more aggressive than the last, and it hit you a place that made you want him to stay there. He growled, keeping himself pushed inside you. _“Mai_ na” he moaned, his voice pitchy, and throaty, and deeper than ever. He brought his head back so that he could look into your eyes, your blood dripping on and down his open mouth, his fangs coated, and you felt his hard cock pull out of you before he thrust again and your eyes rolled, letting your head fall back where Dettlaff’s hand caught it, gently. His breath hit your chest before it moved to the other side of your neck and his pace quickened in excitement. His balls were starting to slap you each time his cock sent you squealing, _“Dettlaff,”_ you moaned more and more, your voice divagating to something purely animal, and his hands grasped your ass firmly, pulling you up onto him every thrust.

“Rilis _ahh_ -am...re _seri_ …” he moaned, “ _iuies,”_ his voice unhinging and you felt his cock push further into you, making you yap and call his name, _“fuck, Dettlaff…”_ You were getting close, his base now rubbing against you. You felt his fangs brush the skin on your neck and he bit down, harder than you were expecting and started bucking erratically, sucking on your neck. Your insides started to burn as he completely overwhelmed you, all you could feel was hard cock inside you, his base against your clitoris...his face latched onto your neck, sucking you, for a moment, before his hands made themselves known again and thrust you up on his erection, moving you in a way that took you over the edge and you started to scream his name, not knowing what he was doing to you. Your vision went blurry and felt the heat of his breath on your neck, where his tongue was lapping you up, his fangs sinking further and further into you until you felt his release inside you, and you started to come _harder_ as Dettlaff moaned for you, beside himself completely. His arms wrapped around you and he held the parts of you he could tightly to him, you felt his seed begin to drip from you as he held himself in you, before he collapsed, nearly allowing his full weight to set on you. 

He was breathing heavily into your neck, and continued sucking from it, somehow making the high after your orgasm linger, and you shuddered. Your chest rose and fell against him, and his chest rose and fell down against yours when finally he pulled himself out of you, and his body shook. You felt the rippling of it in your neck where his strong jaw was still latched and winced, and his large hands held you steady before he slowly retracted his fangs from you and hummed into it. You felt his lips and tongue caress the area, kissing you before wiping his mouth of your blood. He rubbed his face against yours and held you to him, rolling you over onto him and letting his legs splay lazily about the bed with you in his arms. 

When you looked at him, he had his eyes closed, and traces of a contented smile on his lips. Without opening his eyes his hand found your face effortlessly, and cupped it. He sighed.

“How are you feeling _now?”_ He asked, still shut eyed, and pulled you back in to him. 

You giggled, as he kissed the top of your head, feeling like you were on a cloud in his arms, “better still.”

“Then let’s go to this mansion of ours you like so much,” he said into your hair, and you could hear the smile in his voice, “I miss our son.”

“What?” you had expected them to be _here._

“Regis wanted to get his things in order, and I didn’t want to move you again,” he sighed, pitching his head down further onto yours. “Ready, May- _nah?”_

“We’re going to need our pants, honey.”

  
  


-

You came to in an alleyway outside of the gate to your estate. Looking around, you cocked your head at the large, imposing vampire next to you. 

“I thought you might enjoy walking into it for the first time,” he shrugged his shoulders and bent over to kiss you. Your eyes went wide in surprise. _He was right_. 

You don’t know why you bothered being surprised by that. 

The long fingers on Dettlaff’s hand snaked their way between yours and tightened before the two of you took the steps out of the alleyway. 

The sun was just finally beginning to fall behind some of the buildings to the west, and people were rushing through the streets, still. The smells of the city were blinding as the cobblestones clicked under the soles and heels of your copper-toed boots and Dettlaff’s black leather ones. The heat was still hanging in the air as your eyes ran up the side of the wall to the estate. As you approached the door, Dettlaff retrieved a key from his pocket and opened it, eyeing you as he did so, before he motioned for you to step through first. 

You’d forgotten how _huge_ the courtyard was since the last time you were here. How... _hard_ and angular everything was. Your eyes wandered to a place along the left walkway...or more so, the entire left walkway next to the small bungalows. The marble was dug up and dirt was piled. 

...you didn’t remember _that_ being there last time. Dettlaff stood patiently next to you, following your gaze around the courtyard. When you looked up at him in puzzlement, he offered, “Regis wants a garden.”

“Oh,” you nodded once, extending the nod and the word. The dug up portion was _huge._ “Do you know this place well?” 

Dettlaff shrugged, and dislodged his arm from you momentarily to remove his jacket, tossing it onto a chair, before returning it. You held him. 

He looked down at you, searching, then nodded.

“I will give you a tour,” he smiled kindly, but vanished into smoke without you before doing so. 

“Dettlaff?” you asked the air around you and stood for a few minutes alone, before you saw him walk out of the main building, beaming, holding Dacre in his arms. 

“Hmmmm,” he hummed, smiling brightly at you, “now I will show you.” 

“Can I hold him?” you asked, and Dettlaff’s eyes tightened at you, smirking. He shook his head _‘no.’_

“What?!” you whined, and Dacreval giggled, putting a long finger in his mouth and chewing on it. He looked back and forth between the two of you, before he balled a fist and flailed it around lightly in a simple joy. 

Dettlaff chuckled softly, then kissed Val on his pudgy cheek and handed you your son before lifting you up in his arms. Happy with carrying the both of you. 

“There,” he said, looking at the two of you in his arms. His chest started rising and falling and he put his lips together, holding himself high. He looked, without a doubt, very proud. You kissed him, and Dacre threw his pudgy arms up at you, uncoordinated, hitting you lightly in the face. You smiled at your little son and saw your mate’s lingering blush in your peripherals.

Dettlaff began walking the two of you around the courtyard, showing you that there was a door that led you to the stable on the one side, then walked you down to it when you pushed him to, teasingly. You were surprised to find Mers inside... _and Roach._ Then he took the three of you along the northern wall where there was a line of small rooms reserved for parties...the bungalows, you though. You had no idea what you were going to do with _those_. The courtyard extended to the front view of the balcony past the statues and the fountain, and your jaw dropped at the expanse. Why Orianna would give this place up was beyond you...but then again, your vampires didn’t seem overly impressed with it, either. Dettlaff walked along the front of the courtyard’s edge next to the balustrade, and you let your eyes look down and widen at the drop, before reaching the large main building. There was a door at the corner edge of the building where the balcony ended, and he opened it. 

“I will fix the balustrade so that our son cannot fall,” he said matter-of-factly, but, looking down at Dacreval, a smile spread on his face, “as well as around the fountains.” 

He stepped inside and walked up a small landing of stairs into a checkered marble floored living room, the walls were deep mahogany and the furniture was exquisite. The light from the windows illuminated the richness of the wood and it’s artistry. There were three couches - one that faced the windows that led to the steep hill and two facing each other on either side. A fireplace was nestled in the corner. The natural light that trickled in was filtered by the shrubs and leaves of the trees that swayed outside of the room and allowed you to hear their movements in the wind. It was incredibly calming. The sunset was already dressing the room in oranges, pinks, and yellows.

“Whoa,” you stated, in awe. 

“It is absurd, yes,” Dettlaff said blankly, before moving into the next area, which was openly connected to the living room and looked out along the courtyard and balcony: the kitchen. You thought Marlene would have a field day in this one. There was an entire island dedicated to being a cutting board, and more counter space than you could wrap your head around. The large, white sink was rectangular and deep enough to bathe Dacreval in. ...in fact you were fairly certain that’s _exactly_ where you would do so. Somehow there were vegetables hanging from the ceiling already, and you cocked your head _again_ in confusion to Dettlaff. 

“Regis?” you asked, and he nodded. 

The second story was largely another balcony, which already had several sizable, crude looking pots of dirt on it that you figured Regis had constructed and was going to use for more gardening. You laughed internally about the fact that he had already put so much effort into making this place homier for himself. Dettlaff saw you grinning to yourself and smiled at you, before walking you back inside where you witnessed several guest rooms, one of which had the door closed. 

“The witcher,” Dettlaff said, smelling the air. You put a hand to his chest and he breathed, walking past the room altogether. On the third floor was your bedroom. Or more accurately, the third floor _was_ your bedroom, and you felt rather comfortable in it already, since the last time you were here. It had the same marbled floor and fine woodwork, a huge bed, a nook in the corner which jutted out as a window seat - which were your favorite nooks in the world, if you were going to be honest, and you were - and a balcony. Your breath caught as you took it in, and then your heart fluttered slightly at how carefully Dettlaff had unpacked and placed all of your belongings. 

“Where’s Regis?” you asked your dark haired vampire, who was exchanging smiles and faces with Dacreval. 

“Getting seeds,” he replied, absentmindedly. You sighed, unhappily, wishing he were here with the three of you. You didn’t care that it was selfish. 

“I feel like it’s a little late to get planting,” you said, flippantly. Dettlaff took notice and chuckled. You were staring at the countryside through the window when you felt a large, vampiric mouth plant a kiss on your cheek. He must have seen you looking at the scenery, because he walked the three of you out onto the room’s balcony.

“He is not used to sleeping,” Dettlaff informed you as he looked out onto the rolling hills, now deep blue-greens, browns, purples in the waning light. The Sansretour starting to resemble a large orange serpent as it wound its way through the sloping landscape and reflected the sunset, “and so he is not used to losing hours in a day.” 

You tore your eyes away from Toussaint and looked at Dettlaff questioningly, who had already turned to you, and was admiring, “Any time is a good time to plant seeds,” he _winked._

Your eyes got wide and he growled, but cleared his throat, and walked back inside and set you down. 

“I will go light the hundreds of candles in this house so you can _see_ tonight, darling,” your dark hair vampire announced, taking his and your son with him, giving him a finger to gnaw on as he went. You certainly felt like his mood had improved after talking with him today. He seemed so playful right now. _You_ felt lighter, too. 

Or you did, until your eyes landed on the small, dark velvet pouch that held the black cat figurine you would be using. You smacked your forehead, forgetting that you were going to have your first lesson _tonight._ Grateful that Geralt made good on his offer to help, you went to find him. You wanted to get into the right headspace for this thing, and you were getting nervous that you only had a few hours. 

One thing was for certain, though. 

Dettlaff and Regis were _absolutely_ coming with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: lurid depictions of consensual sex and blood sucking/biting, some aggressive behavior, babies,


	43. Art Dettlaff Portrait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a ditty I started maybe last week but stopped working on. Picked it back up yesterday and finished 'em up!
> 
> I'll be consolidating some of these art chapters later so if things move around, that's why. Trying to get this bad boy under control!
> 
> Enjoy!! Have a great Saturday, y'all!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added some of the steps / isolated layers (digital, you make it so easy) and am pretty proud of myself for actually making use of different brushes (sigh). I have quite a few more pictures of the process since I actually remembered to save jpegs during the process so let me know if you're interested and sometime this week I can update!
> 
> Next chapter should be up either Monday or, knowing me, maybe very late tomorrow. Gonna go zooooom with my family!!

<crazy looking isolated layers of his pores, highlights and stubble


	44. Tesi unum Trom Ter / Weaves a Way of the Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maina talks to Regis about Dettlaff before they all snuggle into bed and spill into Krael'ef.
> 
> UPDATE: I am _actually _taking a break now, lmao. I wanna read some of this thing and some others on here! Have some real life stuff to get to, as well! The weather is getting nice enough that I can do some things I really enjoy doing out there! Gotta sleep under those stars on the path, ya dig?! Also going to have to catch up to Regis in the gardening department! I think some of y'all are dealing with finals right now (do not miss those) and I wish you the best of marks for your efforts!__
> 
> _  
> _Will post the next chapter Saturday or Sunday. I've already teased you about its or the following chapter's contents, so this weekend it is! Wanted to let everyone know so you don't think I've died or don't like the story anymore (ummm...am pretty damn excited for some domestic living at Orianna's mansion in Beauclair as we uncover some things about our characters)._  
>  _
> 
> _  
> _Stay safe out there!_  
>  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter would have been too damn long if I would have kept it all together, and I think it makes sense that this should be separate, anyway. Next chapter or the one after is going to be a spice fest, btw, if you can't tell by the title of this one.
> 
> SPEAKING OF WHICH  
> The title of this chapter's translation is broken down in the end notes!
> 
> *If y'all are wondering why Regis isn't freaking out about Maina's blood in this, don't worry, they discuss it next chapter.
> 
> Enjoy! Stay safe out there!!

-

“What’s wrong?” you asked Regis, who had just walked into the bedroom, frowning down at a journal. It was well past dark, and you were getting anxious.

“Oh,” he looked up at you, “merely that I can’t recall the likeness of a petal belonging to a particular strand of Ajwain.”

You lifted _both_ your brows in question in response to _that_ one. He looked at you and offered a smile.

“My apologies, dear,” he started walking over to you with one of his journals, and you were happy to hear that he sounded so much like himself as he did, “ _that_ is my problem.”

He leaned down towards you and you saw, on the page it was opened to, indecipherable chicken scratch detailing a terrible rendering of what may have been a flower, but most certainly resembled a cloud. You stuck a hand over your mouth and looked up at him, smiling. He nodded, closing his eyes and returning the smile before snapping the book shut in his one large, clawed hand. You watched him walk back towards the window of the _three_ of yours’ room. 

Just _thinking_ that gave you immense satisfaction. 

“Is that a problem you run into often?” you asked him, thinking that maybe you would paste some of your sketches in his journals if it was a regular struggle...Dettlaff could help you, too, and maybe it would be a really nice thing for the surgeon-barber. You fought a grin, not wanting to give your newly hatched plan away. 

“More than I’d prefer admitting to, anyway,” Regis turned his face to you enough that a full sideburn was visible and you could see his fangs show in a humble simper. He certainly seemed _much_ lighter right now. “I may or may not have transformed one of the bungalows into a very comfortable space. It should be quite nice for us to resume your lessons in vampiric, if you should want to.” 

You swallowed, wondering if that ‘comfortable space’ contained a mattress or a mound of throw pillows. “Any place is a good place to resume lessons in vampiric with you.”

Regis' face snapped to you and a crooked smile appeared on it. Disbelievingly, he asked, “My god, do you really feel that way?”

You nodded, feeling your brows tighten in bewilderment as to how he could believe you felt otherwise. 

“And here I thought I’d have to trick you into continuing with me by way of pleasant garden nooks,” he smirked, but his blush was telling of his true worry, and the sight of it made you want to leap on him. You _would_ have, if it there wasn't the gnawing promise of Krael’ef later that you couldn’t shake from your present disposition. He saw that your expression had changed and looked at you addressingly, waiting.

“Where’s Dettlaff?” you asked, and idly noticed Regis’ hands were unreasonably clean given how much dirt was on his shirtsleeves as he started to undo them. He nodded as if understanding. 

“Giving Dacreval to Geralt for the night, then retrieving the remainder of his carving implements from that old toy shop before the three of us sleep and _you_ have your lesson,” he eyed you as he removed his dirty shirt, “I’d spoken to him about his overall treatment of our dear witcher today. I expect he may even be having a word with Geralt. Though I do say Dettlaff has been behaving rather well already. He’s lost his temper and become a danger for far lesser offense than endangering one’s Acern Ara. _”_

“Oh,” you slowed, unsure of whether or not you should be putting on pajamas or wearing armor to bed tonight, “well that can’t be that bad, then, can it?”

“Not at all,” Regis replied, “I used to be under the impression that they unequivocally disliked each other. That’s entirely in the past, now.” 

You felt your face scrunch up, not wholly convinced. _Armor,_ you decided on that front, at least. The older vampire smiled at you before walking over and helping you with the buckles across your midriff. His long fingers approached them adeptly, “I’ve been reading up on Krael’ef, mind you there’s little to be read, but several texts allude to the idea that you can change what you’re wearing in it simply by imagining it thoroughly enough.” 

You felt your breath expel slightly as Regis pulled a buckle to your back. “That’s incredible,” you gasped. 

Regis’ large, dark eyes flickered to your face, and you saw his lip curl up, “Is it? My gut reaction was that it had rather terrifying implications. Not that I’d trust something so visceral as that, rest assured.” 

His cloy, herbal scent was filling your mind again, and you remembered that you had to tell him something. You put your hand on his and he nearly shuddered at the touch, closing his eyes and humming. 

“Yes, dear?” he whispered sweetly before inhaling. 

The amount of times Regis’ formed a sexually charged look on his face was going to throw a wrench in your productivity, now that the two of you seemed to finally be together, you could tell. A large vampiric hand went to your neck, and its fingers started lightly drawing circles at the base of your skull.

It felt _amazing._ You blinked yourself back to reality. 

“Regis, Dettlaff has started taking something to prevent him from having children for the time being,” you saw a brow lower on the surgeon-barber’s face, “he started taking it just before you and I got lost in the book.”

Regis’ fingers ceased their drawing and he frowned, staring into an altogether uninteresting portion of your chest armor. He took a deep breath and looked to you, searching, before he finally asked, “Na?” _Really?_

You nodded your head up to him, “Avo atmite.” _He wants you to succeed._

Regis’ face tensed to the point where you nearly winced under its scrutiny.

“Thi _replio_ el?” _He wants me to_ impregnate _you?_ He asked the question as if it were completely unbelievable. You, on the other hand, swallowed at how straightforward he’d put it. His dark eyes noticed. “Ce fetra?” _For us to bring forth a child?_ He was looking more and more suspicious with every question, but you also felt his other hand going to your waist and squeezing it. “Gers mi epe?” _For you to have my baby?_

You tried to concentrate, wanting to finish this conversation, and put a hand firmly on his now excited chest when he started bringing you nearer. He stopped immediately, brows relaxing, and you appreciated it _._

“Regis,” you tried to remember the phrasing, “Testre, thi Bratrom Krove el epe ce,” _I assure you, your blood brother wants us to have a child - for you to have a child...with me._

Regis eyebrows raised slightly, which you took as a good sign, so you went on. “Caro...caro ap va kaus...karnas.” _He would care for, care for yours as if it were his...flesh._

You couldn’t remember the vampiric colloquialism for _flesh and blood,_ so one would have to do, but it sounded odd and clunky. Regis snorted, and nodded his head in contemplation. 

“Thi nesci?” _Are you certain?_ He asked, eyes searching you again.

“Nia,” _Truly._

Regis’ sharp and sloping features were peering down at you before he motioned for you to sit on the bed, and positioned himself behind you once you did. 

“I would have never expected that,” he stated pensively. You looked at the dark window in the candlelight as he did up another buckle and sighed in agreeance.

“You should know before he comes back up here that he’s been...well, _pining_ after you.” 

Regis’ swallowed audibly behind you, and your torso jostled with another tightened leather strap. You thought you heard his mouth moving and tried to turn around on the bed, but a large hand rested on your shoulder and guided you back to forward facing. He cleared his throat, “and have _you_ any feelings on that specific matter?”

Your brows knit, “Does it make a difference?”

 _‘I swear I can sense he feels the same…’_ Dettlaff’s words rang in your mind. 

_Was that what Regis’ hesitation is about? He was worried_ you _wouldn’t like that?_

Regis was no longer buckling anything, and instead you felt a distinct _lack_ of movement behind you. Your hairs were rising on the back of your neck, and it had nothing to do with the late summer breeze rolling through the open doors and windows.

“I feel I’d like for the three of us to be together.”

“Yes but I’d had more an aim on Dettlaff and I-”

“That includes _the two of you,”_ you assured him.

“I lack experience, being with a…” Regis’ voice was uncertain and diffident as it trailed off. You wanted him to be confident. You _wanted_ him to be certain. Letting your torso fall backwards, Regis let your head rest on his lap and you looked up at him - now upside down and skewed in your vision. 

“Well,” you started, raising a hand to his cheek, “is that something you would want?” 

He pursed his lips, nodding, in response. You wanted him to look at you, but it seemed that you weren’t going to get that right now unless you asked for it.

“Hey,” you tried to call his dark eyes back, and finally, he tore them away from the void and looked down at you, and you were lost in them. 

“Yes?” Regis whispered, his mouth parting to reveal fangs. 

“I’ll be there,” you smiled. Regis’ eyes widened, “if you want.” 

The vampire nodded, his nostrils widening as he took in a breath, “you want _both_ of us?” 

You knew what he meant. His chest was rising and falling, suddenly, and a hard mass was forming under your shoulder blade. 

“Yes,” you told him as he stared into you from above, feeling excited and nervous as you did. Your breathing was becoming fuller now, too. A small smile crept onto Regis’ face. 

“Oh _my,”_ his voice was silky and rich sounding and he went to bend over when you felt Dettlaff’s energy a moment before the door opened, sending Regis upright again where he sat. 

All of the air was pushed out of your body at once, you felt. _Deflated._ You looked up at Regis, who _clearly_ was going to need some coaxing for his nerves. _Fuck._

Dettlaff seemed tense, though, and you thought maybe Regis was right in sitting up, so you followed suit. The dark haired vampire had wood shavings all over his pants. 

“Wherever did you find such beautiful adornments?” Regis asked the frustrated vampire, nodding at the shavings. You stifled your laughter and your eyes went wide. 

Dettlaff’s brows tightened along with his mouth, looking at Regis as he started removing his jacket, “there was a letter from a child. It was pleading, so I made him a rocking horse.” 

Regis eyebrows raised expectantly at his blood brother, who was now removing his boots with his feet and his pants with his hands. Dettlaff saw him and sighed, “I am rusty with carving.” 

Regis nodded, looking at you out of the corner of his eyes and fighting a grin. You couldn’t help yours, though, and hopped off the bed towards Dettlaff, who turned and caught you in his arms as you jumped into him. His hands cradled you underneath your arms and knees as he walked you right back to the bed you had just hopped off of, tossed back the heavy blanket and plopped you down in the middle, kissing your forehead and lingering there before he walked back to the dresser. 

Regis shifted on the bed and you smiled at him, eyeing the place under his ass, and he rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he whispered and, removing his undershirt and pants, scooted beneath the blanket with you. “It really is a pity,” he started, rolling over on his side to face you, “that we should have to go to Krael’ef _tonight.”_ His eyes wandered to your many buckles. 

You saw Dettlaff smiling at the desk as he turned around and walked back to the bed. In his hands he held the small cat figurine and sighed. “Is it really time _already?”_ you moaned.

Regis was fiddling with your armor and you turned your head towards him. His eyes lit up mischievously as they darted to yours, “The _first_ thing you’re learning is how to change to your clothes,” he frowned at the buckles, “in Krael’ef, that is. Or I’ll go _mad.”_

You felt the mattress dip beside you as a nearly naked Dettlaff pushed his body against yours and you rolled over to be able to see them both. He looked tired, but smiled down at you sweetly.

“So, Dettlaff, how does Geralt fare?” Regis asked, “Make your apology?”

Dettlaff's eyes flickered to Regis before he turned his back to you on the bed and a low growl emitted from him, his masculine frame wiggling once then settling. You looked at Regis who winked at you before turning his attention back to Dettlaff, who sighed loudly and now reluctantly was rolling back over to rejoin the two of you. 

“I am fully capable of righting my wrongs, _Regis.”_

You put a hand to his body and he pulled you into his chest, wrapping a large leg around you and squeezing you to him. “Mmmm,” Dettlaff’s large nose and mouth hummed into your hair breathily, resonating, “this is much better.”

All to be smelled was cedarwood and what you could only describe as pure _musk_ as your face was gently being pushed against him, his chest hairs tickling the side of your mouth, slightly. 

“Miss me?” you asked into Dettlaff’s skin, knowing full well that he did from his now _soaring_ energy. 

_“Always,”_ his deep, husky voice flowed into you from above and you shivered. Finally Dettlaff let you go and you rolled onto your back once more. You were surprised to see that Regis was still facing the two of you, a slight smile on his lips, which was only partly sad. Your heart panged, and you felt Dettlaff’s energy slow. You thought he had probably understood, too. 

A comfortable silence fell upon the three of you, made cozier by the fact that Dettlaff’s energy was ebbing and flowing like a great, hot, balmy breeze. At some moment, you recognized that you didn’t know where you wanted to look -- at _who_ you wanted to look at, realizing that two pairs of eyes were regarding you silently. You blushed, looking at your armor. Regis was right...you really _were_ going to need to clarify the entire _changing of your clothing in Krael’ef_ thing.

“Well,” Regis finally said, “shall we get this over with? I’d like to actually enjoy sleeping next to the both of you and this venture is impressively beginning to _loom.”_

Dettlaff’s energy spiked acutely at Regis expressing a desire to sleep next to him, too, and your heart had also skipped a beat at the indication. You felt Dettlaff’s arms wrap around you and his large muzzle rest on your shoulder, next to your neck as he moved himself down on the bed a foot or two. Then, his hand poked out of the blanket and a small black velvet pouch slipped out of it and landed lightly on your belly. His grip on you tightened, and you felt Regis body press up on yours. 

“Wait,” you started, “the two of you are going in your _underwear?”_

Two large sets of shoulders shrugged and you couldn’t help but laugh. Regis, at least, held up a different shirt and pants that he had evidently been holding onto. Dettlaff, however, didn’t seem to give one shit about the matter.

“Let me rephrase that,” you said, trying to keep your voice stern as you looked over at a mass of mostly black hair, which was beginning to curl further up from it’s ends as the night wore into itself and the product’s effects lessened its hold. A steely blue grey eye that looked more wolfish than usual peered up at you and you smiled, “Dettlaff, you can’t go without clothes.”

His steely blue grey eye peered at Regis, who was now re-holding his clothes up in the air for him to see. Dettlaff huffed a gust of warm breath into your neck, then got up and walked to the dresser, his butt looking incredible as he went, and grabbed pants and a long black dress shirt. You thought you had heard him mumble _“humans”_ and something about them being impossible as he strutted back to the bed. That made you want to laugh _and_ frown at the same time. You didn’t want your humanness to be a _burden._

As Dettlaff slid back beside you, a low, rumbling whisper hung by your ear where he spoke, “Not you, Maina,” and nuzzled your cheek, _“never_ you.” 

Evidently the minute reaction to his criticism of your species had been more obvious than you realized, but then again, he was _sensitive_ to you and all. 

“Absolutely _you,”_ Regis snorted, rolling so that _his_ mouth was close to your _other_ ear, sending chills down your spine at the proximity of them both, and you were reminded that you currently shared a bed with _two_ vampires who were both _very_ sensitive to you. Regis whispered in your ear, “and _only_ you, if we’re being candid.” 

You felt your heartbeat quicken, not very confident you were ready to be an open book as often as you were possibly about to be, now. _Now_ that you were living with them and sharing a bed with them both...

“What do you mean by that?” you asked Regis, absentmindedly curious.

...and _now_ that they were both taking the position of fathering your children...

Regis cleared his throat and brought you back from your thoughts. When your eyes met his, he smiled, and you felt a large hand go to your cheek as he cradled it. Dettlaff’s hair was tickling you where he was making himself comfortable on your chest, manually moving your arm for you and placing it around him before wrapping his large body around yours. Regis' gaze was intoxicating as he said quietly and matter-of-factly, “What I mean by that, is that you are _most_ important.”

His eyes flickered about your face before he pursed his lips, looking at where Dettlaff was moving the pouch on your stomach, outturning its contents and, squeezing you closer to him, folded the small cat figurine in your bare hand. 

You opened your small hand in his and stared down at it. It looked as simple and unthreatening as any other figurine you’d ever witnessed in your life. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Dettlaff yawn hugely, his sharp fangs greeting the air and as his face rested back on your chest, Regis yawned, too, displaying a crisp row of lethal fangs as well, then rested his head above yours on the massive pillow, and you felt a kiss get planted there. You joined them in a yawn, wondering how you were supposed to fall asleep with the challenge of Krael’ef posing you, when the large bodies of two sleepy vampires rose and fell in a lulling way and brought you to rest. 

-

  
  


_-_-_-

The large, dark haired vampire was standing in an ornately decorated room he’d never seen before. The floors were marble and thoroughly _clicked_ under the heel of his boots. Those boots _clicked_ through a deep wooden chestnut door and circled around a spiral staircase before he suddenly stopped, eyeing the window. 

He heard the door he had just walked through behind him shut, and the _clicking_ of those marble floors followed, muffled beyond the wall. A baby was crying, and a woman was hushing it, whispering sweet tidings of comfort and tomorrow. He turned and followed the sound, hesitant, but curious. Before he could make it to the bottom of the stairs he was _in_ the room, as if his curiosity alone had propelled him there. Neither the woman nor the baby that she bounced on her lap paid him any notice. 

It was, he thought unmistakably, his mother. Her light blonde hair and light grey eyes were disruptive and beautiful, and she beamed down at the dark haired child in her hands. 

“Dettlaff,” she smiled, lines of sharp white teeth too many, _too_ white, “you will be the greatest Aule there ever was.” 

She peered at the babe, at _him_ , in a way that made the now larger Dettlaff cock his head. The last of her words lingered in her eyes and on her teeth, he thought, as she stared down at him. He stepped closer, and his mother’s eyes got wide at the sight of her baby. A chill ran down Dettlaff’s spine, and he had no idea why. 

Then there was a pull...he felt it, he felt _her._ Then he could _hear_ her. Maina. The room he stood in quaked and rippled like tar baking in the sun, and began morphing. Dettlaff closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was standing in an eerily empty square in Beauclair outside of their mansion. The large vampire looked around and saw what he’d felt. Maina was skipping towards him - her feet leaving the ground for too long than what was natural, with Regis in tow, she was beaming. Dettlaff sighed, heavily, and trotted to meet them, with a point to never let them go.

-_-_-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> conjugated tesi from tesare  
> Tesi: weaves, twines together, composes  
> Trom: way of the, path of the  
> Ter: Three  
> unum: a, one


	45. First Lesson(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our three travel to Krael'ef for Maina's first lesson with Yennefer, who surprises Maina with some news of the womb and an odd reminder that she needs to finally settle on a different name. 
> 
> Back in the waking world, the three try to navigate their first of many nights in the same bed, and these clunkers are going to need some practice...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God do I have notes on the goings on in this chapter at the end.
> 
> Also HEY! I missed y'all!!! Hope all is well! Yay!! You're all great! I'm so excited for the next few chapters and glad this one is out of the way, dear lord.
> 
> CW's at the end and THEY'RE SPOILERS. yeah there's a conversation that happens during some NSFW action that I've summarized and put in the end notes. The transcript is stupid, but honest. There's also a rather ribald rant in the end notes. The end notes are off the charts...best to avoid them.

-_-_-_

You opened your eyes to an eerily empty square in Hauteville. It was sunny and, by the look of your shadow, midday. Squinting, you observed the black cat figurine in your hand and noticed that here the feline was dark as night despite the sun’s reflection off it. You slid it into the small pocket of your leather strap and put a hand to your brow, cupping above your eyes. 

“Journeyman Blacksmith,” you whispered, reading the sign behind you. _Hmm._ You’d seen it before, but were far less acquainted with it and its location than Lafargue’s place, where Geralt always insisted on going. _Fuck._ You looked around at the small, empty plaza, wishing that a _bird_ would chirp or _something._ You could see that the main spire of Beauclair palace stood directly in front of the brilliant face of it’s grand arch, and decided that walking through the blacksmith’s shop would take you to a more acquainted street. “Thanks for nothing,” you told the midday sun, perfectly centered in the sky and started making your way. 

The bell to the Journeyman Blacksmith’s door rang shut behind you with an overly loud squeak. _Christ, who needs the bell when you don’t oil your door hinges,_ you thought. Stepping out onto the street, the quiet thudding of soft boots on the cobblestones sounded somewhere off towards Orianna’s, which is directly where you were trying to make it back to. You broke out into a trot after them. 

“Regis?!” you called, thinking that they must be his, as Dettlaff’s soles were quite hard, then stopped running after them completely. _Regis wasn’t wearing boots,_ you shivered, _would he be wearing boots?_ You were just about to open the door to Lafargue’s and hide inside it when you made out the unmistakable leather vest of Regis’ favorite outfit as it appeared around the corner. 

“Regis!” you felt your shoulders ease and started running towards him, “thank _god_ it’s you!” 

“I know,” Regis replied, grinning slightly out of the side of his mouth as you literally hit him running, “this place is uncanny.”

Suddenly you noticed a warm, calming energy beginning to surround you, engulfing your toes and making your neck and ankles warm, but rather pleasantly. You sighed. _Very_ pleasantly. You felt the vampire’s nose dig slightly into your hair and jawline before he whispered, “though maybe we should get lost here more often, if this is the result.”

Smiling, you broke the embrace and took one of his large hands in your own, “Where’s Dettlaff? And how are you wearing your clothes?”

Regis raised his brows and squinted an eye, “haven’t seen him, _yet._ Admittedly finding you seemed more important,” he cleared his throat and the two of you began walking, hand in hand, towards Orianna’s - towards _your_ estate. Regis’ fingers were having a field day rubbing yours, and it started messing with your breathing. As was his energy, which seemed to be rather good at reminding you that you wanted to reproduce. “It also, again, wasn’t difficult to find you. Your presence is so very _weighty,_ here. That’s another question for Yennefer, mind you.” 

You smiled at his diligence and squeezed his large hand back, “I’ll be sure to ask her.”

 _“Good._ I’ll be sure to remind you for next time when you forget,” he smiled slyly, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. You felt your mouth fall open slightly and your eyelids strain at him, but your grin betrayed any attempt to hide your amusement.

“I do _not_ forget to ask things, Regis,” you bit your lip, rolling your eyes under his now twinkling, intense gaze. It made you blush, him flirting with you, and you felt yourself swallow because of it, looking away shyly.

“Mm _hm,”_ he replied sassily, and tugged your hand slightly to guide you down an alley leading _away_ from your estate to the east. You slowed, resisting his pull as you turned towards the gate of the mansion.

“Regis why-”

“I can sense him, finally,” as he spoke the word ‘sense’, he nodded in the direction he was leading and you fell into step aside him once more. 

“Oh,” you said quietly, remembering that you couldn’t feel Dettlaff here. That made you sad, for some reason. Sad and kind of nervous. Okay, maybe much more nervous than sad. Alright, maybe nervous and giddy. You’d never been around him without being able to sense him, really. The last time the three of you were here you hardly got to see him, whether that be for better or for worse. Regis’ nudged you with his elbow and you looked up ahead of you, where a tall, handsome man with dark hair and slightly graying temples was standing at the crest of the street square you and Regis’ were entering. 

Your heart skipped a beat as you saw him and broke out into a skip. You could have sworn it felt like you were _flying_ as your and his body met. He promptly picked you up, wrapping you in his arms and held you there, burying his face into your shoulder.

“Dettlaff,” you gasped, trying to free your nose and mouth from his shows of affection. He was _humming,_ or more so, _rumbling_ deeply; his hands were setting you down on your feet when you looked up at him and saw it. He was worried, but he pulled you into his chest and held you again, muffling your attempts at saying more. 

“My Maina,” Dettlaff whispered into your hair, squeezing you tightly before he kissed you with closed eyes. _Maybe not being able to feel his energy_ wasn’t _going to be as scary as I'd entertained,_ you thought, smiling up at his piercing gray eyes. His vampiric hand went to your face and cupped your cheek, so large that his thumb massaged your temple, before you turned around to the feeling of an energy ever so slightly _sour._

Regis was slowing to a stop by the fountain when the two of you reached him. Dettlaff trotted up to him and wrapped him up his arms, as well. You felt the sour in Regis’ energy simmer as Dettlaff held him in his arms for more than a few moments, before he was placed back down to his feet by the younger, taller vampire. 

You blushed when the two of them faced to you, not having hidden the stupid, shit-eating grin that you could _feel_ sitting there across your face. You cleared your throat and redirected your now _burning_ cheeks towards your shoes. 

_Well aren’t we just a trio of Casanovas..._ you thought. How you were ever going to get the three of you in one place _to fuck_ while being the most awkward bunch of sensory-overloaded what-have-you’s was beyond you. 

You looked up to see that both the vampires had their heads cocked to the side, staring at you.

“You _know,”_ an overly elegant voice, accompanied by the sound of heels, broke the silence, “if it weren’t for Geralt slipping to me that the lot of you were relocating to Beauclair, it may have taken _days_ to find you.” 

_Shit._ You hadn’t even thought about that. How were you supposed to know that that could possibly matter? _Maina,_ tell _her this, don’t just fucking think it-_

“Quite rude, really,” Yennefer finished, sounding closer than she really was, you noticed, as you pivoted around to see her on the opposite side of the fountain. She smiled at you. To your own annoyance you were overwhelmingly relieved to see how sincere it was. 

“I didn’t know that it mattered,” you shrugged, but she put a hand up.

“I’m only having fun,” she pulled up her gloves, “I’d have to find you either way. What, with this being your first time using an object door, and all.” 

You felt Regis’ energy become dangerous before you realized Dettlaff had positioned himself directly behind you, just now putting a hand to your waist. 

“Yes, hello,” Yennefer greeted the younger vampire with a vague gesture of her hand, then looked to Regis and gave him a tight smile, “how are we all doing today? Glad you both were able to accompany Maina.” 

It sounded like she was the opposite of glad they were here, and Dettlaff’s hand brought you nearer to him. You went to kiss him on his five o’clock shadow and nodded at him assuringly. He kissed you back, then inclined his head at the sorceress and, still eyeing her, grabbed Regis’ forearm and dragged him backwards with him to the edge of the courtyard.

Looking back to Yennefer, you saw she had an eyebrow raised towards your large, dark haired mate and when she regarded you again, nodded at him, _“that_ one surprises me.” 

You really didn’t appreciate how little credit she gave him, and you could feel yourself becoming angry at her condescension. A billow of Regis’ energy reminded you of another thing you weren’t very happy with her about...though you didn’t know how you were going to tell her that with Dettlaff here. He might actually kill her if he found out what she asked of Regis.

It seemed your set-back had been cleared, though, as Yennefer immediately called to the older vampire and informed him she would be putting up a sound barrier, and he seemed unreasonably _cool_ about it. Both of them did. You felt your facial expression tighten as you wondered how familiar with magic and magic users they were. _They_ are _very,_ very _old, Maina,_ you reminded yourself. Yen started to surround the two of you in a large, reflective dome and you wondered when exactly Dettlaff’s Birthday was.

You looked at the two of them next to each other across the courtyard and your heart fluttered, but then your saliva ran thick as you swallowed. They both seemed incredibly _uneasy._

-

Once the noise barriers were thoroughly and unnecessarily in place you faced Yennefer, a burning in your chest present which wasn’t moments ago. You weren’t certain how much of it had to do with Regis’ energy. You blinked, and looked over at him, cocking your head. _Well,_ you thought, smacking your forehead, _this explains their calmness about the_ noise _barrier._ They could just _sense you_ if you were in danger. Feeling emboldened, you eyed Yennefer.

It was time you addressed this entire, _slip maina birth control_ scandal.

“Yennefer of Vengerberg,” you said, standing up as straight as you could and crossing your arms. The dark haired, darkly dressed woman turned to you, mimicking your posture and dropping a hip. 

“Yes, Maina Mehaeth crail’Haleah Theley _Thredale?”_ she spouted fluidly, and even nodded her head back and forth with each syllable of your given name. She'd even pronounced your first name ' _Me-na'_. It felt like you had just gotten punched in your stomach, and your eyes immediately darted to your vampires and back, chest pounding.

“Don’t do that,” you snapped at Yennefer, feeling your neck break out in a cold sweat.

 _“Then choose a new one already,”_ she rolled her eyes, “I checked with Geralt and he’s told me that since meeting, you’ve given him _three_ entirely different ones.” 

“Who the fuck needs a name, anyway?” you barked, getting heated and not caring whether or not that question was stupid or childish. You didn’t come here to talk about _your name._ Of all the things she was going to get _back_ on _your_ ass about… Dettlaff caught your eye, and you swallowed. _That being said..._

“Oh for the love of god, Maina. _That one?”_ Yennefer asked, scoffing. _“Really?”_

“What’s wrong with _van der Eretein?”_ you asked, then smiled, then tried to hide it as your eyes went back to Dettlaff. _Maina van der Eretein._ You shivered, smiling again. Dettlaff’s lips curved up and revealed his sharp teeth when he saw you looking at him.

“Maina,” you looked back at Yennefer, who was squinting at you in disbelief before she shook her head, “does that mean you’ll be getting married?”

“No,” you swallowed. 

“Isn’t he from Nazair?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Admittedly you weren’t really clear on that detail.

“Good luck introducing the idea of donning his title without him laying a legal claim on you.”

“You don’t know anything about him,” you bayed, and regretted it. Her eyes told you she knew too much about how little you knew of him. 

“Fine,” she replied. 

“What?” you asked, blushing. “...Fine what?”

“We’ll change your name,” she shrugged, “It’s really only important that, legally, you have _a different one.”_

Your eyes darted to Dettlaff and back, “but I haven’t asked him.”

“For heavens’ sake, Maina, _look at him,”_ she threw her arms in his direction and you could see his _jaw clench_ at her from where you stood. “If _he_ takes issue with you having his last name _I’ll change it back myself.”_

She was probably right, but, you’d still feel better if you’d asked. You shrugged, and nodded. Then you felt Regis’ energy once more and that tight, burning sensation in your chest abruptly lit up. You took a deep breath.

Straightening yourself, you started walking over to her, taller than her by several inches despite her heels, trying to retain some semblance of calm.

“Why did you give Regis a recipe to stop me from getting pregnant without telling me?” You stepped towards her still, as the words spoken created a new burning in your throat, “Telling him to _administer it_ to me without my knowing?”

You realized you were filling with tension and were _livid._

Yennefer looked up at you and raised a hand, twirling it in some odd fashion, and then you were being pulled down, until your feet hit the ground. 

_“Do_ try to keep yourself from floating away,” she sighed, before she closed her eyes for a very, _very_ , long moment. You looked at her; you weren’t nearly that much taller than her now that you were actually on the ground. Her eyes were still closed, and she spoke before opening them. “If I would have asked you to take it, would you have?”

 _No,_ you thought.

She stared at you for a while, arms crossed under her breast, and raised an eyebrow as if she knew exactly what you had been thinking. She had the audacity to smirk, _“exactly.”_

Your arms shot out to the side and she had to do that twirly thing with her hands again, but you didn’t bother checking to see you’d done.

“You don’t get to make those decisions for people, Yen!” you shouted, then realized you wanted to keep your demeanor cool, eyeing the vampires who were watching her in animosity. You tried to calm yourself as you turned back to her, “it’s so morally decrepit that I don’t even know where to begin!”

Yennefer surprised you by almost, _almost_ looking remorseful before she nearly spat, “and _what_ if I didn’t try to do something?”

“You could have explained to me _why_ you didn’t want me to have another child right now,” you had to stop yourself from making a show of looking around and tossing your arms up at the side as if this were _beyond_ _obvious,_ “which _by the way,_ you _still haven’t explained to me.”_

“It _isn’t_ _safe,”_ Yennefer nearly hissed, “you’re vulnerable, and will be even _more_ so if you’re with-child. Earnestly, if you can’t make decent decisions on your own _someone’s_ going to have to make them for you.” 

“How is it, I spend _two_ _months_ in your care and for it I have to suffer a-”

“You’re _still_ in my care,” she barked and you felt yourself openly laugh at that sentiment. 

You started pacing to cool yourself down, and Yen let you. Then she did something with her hands. It was subtle, and you thought she had tried to hide the movement as she pulled her hand across her back and it tinted green. She frowned _massively_ , “are you aware that you’re already pregnant?”

It was like someone had upended your feet, the way it felt like you were freefalling as you looked at her. But you were standing. Standing and watching her stare. You looked down at yourself in that familiar way and felt the small of your stomach. Your own heart beat in your ears. _Regis._ You felt your breathing quicken as you looked up towards him, your eyes widening. It was impossible, you thought. It had only been... _days._ Had it been days? _How long were you in that book?_

“How?” you asked yourself quietly, your eyes wide. _Was she lying?_ It couldn’t be Dettlaff’s, you hadn’t had sex without precautions since Dacre was born. You felt your brows tense. 

“I trust you don’t sincerely require an explanation on how this works,” you heard Yen’s cool voice drift over from the other side of the fountain and you swallowed. 

“No, I mean,” you really had no idea why you were sharing this with her, then you realized she already knew when the two of you first became intimate, so saved yourself the embarrassment by simply stating, “I mean it’s Regis’.”

 _“Oh,”_ she _did_ sound surprised, “I haven’t any idea, Maina. Before Regis shared with me the information on vampire human husbandry I wasn’t entirely aware that humans and higher vampires _could_ reproduce.” You were standing in butterflies, staring at the small of your stomach and when Yen spoke next, it was half under her breath, “How much of _it_ could even be Regis? It’s obvious that he’s not _whole_ yet.”

It didn’t sound malicious, but it made you flinch, and you swallowed. _How much of Regis was...Regis, anymore?_ _‘Obvious’ that he’s not whole yet? How was it obvious?_

“What do you mean?” you wanted her to elaborate. 

Peeling your eyes from your midsection, you expected Yen to be furious, but when you looked up and caught a glimpse of her expression, it was saddened. Saddened and thoughtful and now peering at the older vampire.

Your eyes darted to Regis, whose attention was already on you, his head cocked to the side. You started walking towards him when Yennefer _tsked_ at you and you halted.

Her quiet voice sounded urgent when she spoke.

“Maina we need to get through this lesson, as well as every other lesson, before you begin to show,” you could hear the clicking of her heels on the cobblestones and tore your eyes from Regis, looking to her. She bore a face of complete concern, and you jumped at the gloved hand that went to the side of your arm reassuringly, “I will work on finding something that will make it safe for you to use your powers while…” she nodded your midriff. 

Her eyes started to unfocus, and you couldn’t help but feel that she looked very unlike herself as she eventually finished her thought, “...there does seem to be some perks to being an Ailma user, after all.” 

You could have sworn her hand twitched in the direction of her own midriff before she shook her head and pivoted from you abruptly, “I apologize for having gone behind your back, Maina. _Please,_ may we proceed with the lesson?”

Something about the way Yennefer was acting made your anger subside. In fact there was something in it that made you want to...console her. There was something in _that_ that made your skin crawl. You didn’t know how to ask her what you wanted to ask her, because you weren’t sure exactly what you wanted to ask. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was _jealous._ Jealous, or _mourning._ Your eyes flitted once more to the vampires, Dettlaff and Regis both staring at you with mixed consternation. Then, as if you’d flipped a switch, they both blinked and their faces became expressionless. It took you a moment to notice that it was because Yen had looked towards them. _They can do that? Christ,_ you thought, feeling suddenly insecure. 

You took a breath.

“Is it safe?” you asked Yen, refocusing your efforts, “is it safe for me to proceed with this lesson?”

“Yes.”

The expression on her face was difficult to place, but you trusted her. What good would it do for her to lie to you? You mulled it over and decided that, yes, she _was_ telling you the truth.

You could still feel your heart pounding a bit too fast and your face felt still a bit _too_ warm, but you nodded at her. You would continue with the lesson. It’s why the two of you were here.

-

It had taken less time than you thought it would for Yennefer to explain to you the first thing you would learn: _Thuom._ You’d already cast it, as it was evidently what you’d hurled at Artorius Vigo and made those columns collapse with - which you had mistaken for an extension of Aard, or some form of it. She told you that in a way, it was very much similar to Aard. _“Like Aard, Thuom is a very simple spell belonging to the family of psychokinetic magic which is based on thrusting energy in the required direction. The force of the thrust depends on how the will of the person throwing it is focused and on the expelled force. It can be considerable. However, since Thuom uses Ailma, you will be able to eventually direct it on more...complicated paths, once you’ve learned how.”_ You realized in a way you had already kind of used a complicated path, since you uprooted some pillars with it, but you could feel her wanting to slap you on the wrist when you began mentioning it so you stopped partway through. She’d then made you practice bringing in energy and more importantly, how to stop before killing yourself, which was just so _pleasantly upbeat._ You also had to recognize _when_ you were pulling energy in, so you wouldn’t just ‘float away’ or _accidentally kill yourself._ Again, all of it was _incredibly uplifting._ You’d be rich if you had a crown for every time you thought about how _lovely_ a way this was to spend your _resting_ hours. 

You had also tried, with immense effort, to not get distracted by the fact that it _looked_ like Dettlaff and Regis were talking. At one point in time during Yennefer’s explanation it _looked_ like Regis was getting something out of Dettlaff’s hair. It _looked_ like they had made some heavy eye contact. In fact, it _looked_ as if they both blushed afterwards, too. And it _felt_ like Regis was burning up. It _felt_ like _your insides_ were burning up as you watched them from _entirely too far away._

You were really glad they were here, but holy _shit_ was it difficult to concentrate because of it. Several times your hand had moved to your lower abdomen while watching them, wondering if Regis was going to become crazy and overprotective at the end of your pregnancy like Dettlaff had, not noticing you were off in the clouds until Yennefer was next to you, smacking your arm, unamused.

Finally, after the seminar was finished and on Yen’s command, you began walking to the place where she had indicated. Essentially it was to stand on the same side of the fountain as her only facing away from Dettlaff and Regis before you would start hurtling Thuom at her. You couldn’t even pretend that facing away from them wasn’t a good idea - you wanted to tell the two of them about the pregnancy so badly right now that it hurt. Watching their canoodling wasn’t helping.

After what had to have been an hour of practicing in relative eerie silence, Yennefer cleared her throat, breaking your concentration.

“So,” Yen began, sounding ridiculously _too_ conversational as she spun around and got into a stance you were not looking forward to feeling the effects of, “is the other one like Regis in his blood drinking habits?”

You felt your brows wanting to pull down, but, in all honesty and despite her refusing to use his name, it was a fair question. A bit of pride swelled in you about Dettlaff and his restraint. However, you thought maybe if you showed too much pride for his restraint, that you would be undermining Regis and how difficult his addiction was for him. You blinked, and shrugged lightly, bending slightly at the knees and finding a stance of your own. 

“No, he’s not,” you replied, putting your hands up towards her - right side forward, dominant behind, and began letting tension fill you, “I guess he never had a taste for it.” 

Yen’s brows went up slightly, and you pushed the power tingling in your body, pulling inward on itself, from your middle, to your left arm then through it into your hand and out of your palm and fingers as you stepped forward at Yennefer. It jolted from you in a _swoosh,_ wind sweeping your hair backwards and you just barely stopped yourself from stumbling. Yen countered by taking a graceful half-step backwards, and with a flick of her wrist, something blue and sparking flew from her fingers and slightly ricocheted your blow away from her. That sent _your_ brows up.

_Damn._

She grinned beautifully, and to your surprise, crookedly. You walked over to the seat of the fountain where you kept your waterskin - well, the skin that Yen summoned for you - while she sauntered over, coolly.

“That’s actually rather impressive, you know,” she considered, and you thought she was talking about your abilities before you saw her staring in the direction of Dettlaff. She pitched her head, “though that does all depend on _why_ he doesn’t have a taste for it. Bad experience?”

The two of you began walking away from each other in the same straight line and as you turned to face her were about to reply, but she added, “Oh, and this time try _lobbing_ your energy - passing it from the right side of your body to the left. Step into it. Let it _flow._ You’re tall, relatively. Ever thrown a _disc?”_

You thought, maybe, she was making fun of you, but the way she was looking at you was...well, it was making you blush, to say the least. You cleared your throat. 

“Lob it, right,” you replied, letting the discus jab - if that’s what it was - go. “As far as the ‘Dettlaff had a bad experience with blood and is the reason he doesn’t drink it’ theory goes...I doubt it,” you ignored her expression and started to stand in a way that felt like throwing a disc, which you’d never done before, but settled for something that was sincerely more or less the same as what you had just done. 

You tried to concentrate the Ailma you brought into you towards the right side of your body. It flowed into your right forearm, feeling as if your veins were carrying through them something heavy, and pooled into that arm...only if that pooling could be absolute energy - prickling, itching, and made you feel high with power. 

“And what could bring you to say that?” Yennefer questioned, looking smug. You raised your right arm slightly, feeling the tension begin to spill downwards to your shoulder, and stepping through your stance swayed your body into throwing that energy out of your left hand. 

You tried to catch your breath as the force of it spun you in a perfect circle, landing with your legs far apart and saw the gust cut through the stagnant air like a rock skips water, hurling itself forward in bounds. Yennefer encapsulated herself with something translucent and glowing as it passed, looking behind her afterwards and letting the glowing dome disappear. When she looked to you she nodded and smiled. _“That_ was very good.”

You nodded back, breathing heavily, and had to admit that you agreed. You wanted to do it again. You wanted to do it again immediately.

Yennefer was staring at you expectantly, “ _so?_ Not a bad blood experience?”

 _Oh, right._

“Yeah, Regis told me that when they were younger Dettlaff thought he and his friends they were all immature and foolish for drinking blood. Dettlaff never joined their group or partook in the activities,” you sighed. 

“How very mature of a young vampire,” Yen’s mass of black wavy hair swayed as she looked towards your large mate. Her eyebrows puckered up in the middle, you thought, ever so slightly. “That’s also very indicative of trauma.” 

“What?” you asked, wanting to scoff at the fact that she was still pushing the bad experience with blood, thing, “Some sort of _blood_ trauma?” 

“What? No, forget about the blood,” she started getting into her stance again, but looked overall, quite distracted, “being overly mature at a young age, not fitting in with your peers, _et cetera._ It’s indicative of past trauma.”

You blinked, and could feel something pounding in your chest. Dettlaff was staring at you, and when your eyes met, his became soft, and his nostrils flared in excitement or happiness or both as you shared the moment. The pounding in your chest caused it to pang. 

When you tore your eyes from him, you saw that Yen was considering you, “how well do you know him, exactly?”

The pounding was growing into your ears, and you swallowed. “Well enough.”

Yen rolled her eyes, “Maina this is important for your safety.” 

Now it was _your_ turn to roll your eyes, “Dettlaff would never hurt me.” 

“I never said he _would,”_ Yen had given up on her stance and took to merely standing, “in fact I believe he’d protect you with _his life,_ Maina, but that’s not the reason I’m asking.” 

“What _is_ the reason you’re asking?” you asked, feeling yourself huff, much like your mate would. 

“You’ll know when you’re ready and once I’ve figured _that out,”_ Yennefer snapped, “Honestly, what has being here done to you? You used to be so level headed…”

“You mean I used to be complacent in you taking advantage of me?” you barked. 

Yennefer’s eyes got wide and for a moment, you were afraid of what she might do, but the sorceress merely shut them and rubbed her face with her gloved hand, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“If that’s what you think I’m doing…” she took a deep breath, “Maina, please just answer me. What do you know about his history?”

“We were going to talk about it tomorrow, actually,” you replied, trying to think. You knew he had spent some time in Nazair, from the way he spoke of its forest, though he never explicitly said he was _from_ that region. You walked in a circle, looking at the ground and trying to jog your own memory, then stopped on your foot, sighing. “He says there are a lot of parts of his childhood he can’t remember. Only bits and pieces.” 

Yennefer pitched her head towards the ground in front of her, and you thought you’d seen her eyes getting wide, before she flipped her hair and looked up and beyond you, regally. _“That_ can’t be good,” placing her hands on her hips, started walking away from you. “Motivated forgetting…” you heard her mumble under her breath, before she said loudly, “well let me know what you find out, please.”

“Well let me know that _you_ find out,” you replied. You could feel your chest rising and falling, ”like, what the fuck being a-” you swallowed, Yen was beginning to walk away and somehow, you could feel that she was calling magic to her. You didn’t want her to leave yet, “wait, Yen…”

Surprisingly, she stopped and regarded you. You swallowed. 

“I saw Regis, I...earlier today I was pulled into Krael’ef and I don’t know why,” you thought of how you hit your head, “okay so maybe it was because I may have given myself a concussion but how or why isn’t important,” you swallowed, ignoring her now scornful countenance, “um, hah, um,” you shook your head and took a few steps back from her. 

_Breathe, Maina._ You don’t know why this was so difficult to explain right now.

“Okay, I fell into Krael’ef and it all started out like my dream, like _the_ dream. Only Regis was there, and he was younger, and I didn’t know any of the faces of the dead and they were all wearing funny clothes. Actually they were all wearing similar clothes to what Regis and Amilie were wearing,” you saw her brows rise and realized you were getting ahead of yourself, “and then I overheard an argument between Amilie and Regis.”

She stared at you.

“That’s it,” you finished, wishing that she’d say something. “I was pulled back out of it and I don’t know how.”

You shrugged and took a deep breath. Yennefer’s eyes traveled to Regis for less than a second before she puckered her lips in thought. 

“So _why_ did that happen?” you asked, “Why am I seeing them together? Why did I get pulled into Krael’ef in the middle of the day?” _Okay so maybe that was because I gave myself a concussion, but still,_ "Why was I able to get back?"

“Do you know how to use Ailma in the waking world?” she asked, finally.

“What?” you asked, “Like Aard? Yennefer why didn’t I know any of those dead fa-”

“I only have so much time. Now do you know how to use Ailma in the waking world or not, Maina?” Yennefer asked, her tone more than commanding and it worked. “And yes, _like Aard.”_

You nodded. 

“You should be able to gain access to Krael’ef by harnessing enough Ailma to use Aard and then doing the opposite of what your body tells you you should be doing, which is to say that you need to _relax._ Find _zen._ You need to do the same thing to leave Krael’ef without an exit. Do you understand?” she took a step towards you, “If you ever get stuck here without the cat figurine you need to do that, is that understood? Krael’ef’s memories are not safe, Maina.”

“So you can only enter when you’re in a state of relaxation?” you asked, having so many questions and not knowing where to start. Yennefer looked visibly exhausted by it. 

She nodded, re-buttoning her blazer, “Although it seems a requirement that the first time a door enters on its-” she eyed you, _“_ of _their_ own accord, they experience some extreme emotion.”

You looked at her blankly.

“They have to be upset. Very upset,” she explained, before she picked up her black leather purse.

You swallowed, forgetting all your prior questions. 

“Oh, and when you want to enter a certain area of Krael’ef, you need to imagine it as you enter. It won’t be easy for you since you’re still a modest novice and gain entry by way of an object door and _sleep,”_ she stifled a laugh, “but for our next lesson I want you to attempt using the cat figurine and _relaxing_ to gain entry. Understood?”

You nodded, then frowned. 

“Will Regis and Dettlaff come with me, then?”

She sighed, sparing them a glance, “if they’re relaxed enough or you're persistent enough in wanting them to join you.” 

You felt your brows furrow, “does this mean our lesson is over?”

Yennefer nodded. 

“I’m afraid it does,” she saw your frowning face, “I shall see you in two days, Maina. You have time to ask your questions, I just happen to not have time to answer them all _tonight.”_

It seemed, to you, that your face was nearing a pout and you weren’t entirely proud of it. You shook your head, before clarifying, “You’ll look up different ways to make using Ailma safe during pregnancy?”

 _Fat chance,_ you thought, then felt bad for thinking it. She rolled her eyes and nodded yes to you, exasperated.

“I may not be able to have children, Maina,” Yennefer sighed, opening up a portal, “I may want to _prevent_ them at times,” she took a step towards it, “but that doesn’t mean I hate them. What’s done is done. I’ll see you in this square in two nights' time. Practice gathering Ailma. Oh, and be sure to hold onto your vampires when you go to leave,” she waved back behind you, “Goodbye, Maina _van der Eretein.”_

With that, Yennefer walked through her portal. You felt your hand get lighter as the waterskin she summoned disappeared from between your fingers and the noise barrier’s sparkling sheen dissipated. You looked around you in awe as the sound of the portal closing ceased. _Damn._ You may not always like the way she treated you, but you had to admit, _Yennefer could do some cool shit._

Sighing, you let your body slump. A wave of questions left unasked or answered smacked your face like a weighty, dead fish. It felt like every time you were around Yennefer, your mind went completely blank like you were stupid. You eyed Regis and Dettlaff, who were looking at you in anticipation. _You forgot to ask about your stupid, weighty presence,_ you thought and imagined Regis' smug smile when you admitted you forgot to ask.

“That’s it,” you huffed, “I’m bringing _notes,_ next time.”

_-_-_-

-

You blinked back your eyelids at the darkness. _These pillows are divine,_ you sighed, frowning that the three of you decided it would be weird if you didn’t redress them in your own simple cloth covers. In the moonlight filtering through the window you could count the scattered, smooth, dark moles or freckles that dotted Dettlaff’s shoulder where he lay inches from you. They sent shivers down your spine. You weren’t certain why you thought they were so masculine, but you did. You yawned and adjusted yourself under the blanket. The heady scent of cedarwood mixing with the sweet herbal grace of Regis behind you filled your nostrils and sent you lulling into a state of relaxation. You felt so full. You nestled yourself further between the two large, safe, warm bodies - which is to say you simply shifted your weight, and they both just sort of naturally drew closer to you in their sleep. 

Or you had thought they were both in their sleep. As you closed your eyes, Regis’ fingers began to graze the place where the buckles on your chest armor _had_ been, not realizing that you’d risen upon returning, while they slept, and removed them with the rest of your armor. The three of you had left Krael'ef immediately after Yennefer, not wanting to stay in that place any longer than you had to. Unfortunately you hadn't been expecting for them to both be sound asleep upon your return, making removing your armor difficult. Now his long, nailed digits simply caressed the curves of your bosom, which were admittedly beginning to ache. You rearranged your weight, not wanting to wake Dettlaff, whose energy was so peaceful right now.

“Mmm,” you heard Regis hum from behind you in your ear, his hands making themselves comfortable around you, and you settled back into a cozy sleeping position while he pressed himself against your backside. 

“Mm _mm_ ,” you hummed happily, sleepily back to him and heard his breath hitch as if he’d just fully realized that you too, were awake. His arms wrapped tighter around you, filling you more with his sweet floral and herbal scent. You hummed again quietly, happily. 

Then you felt one of his arms relax, and the fingertips of his hand brush down your front gently, before they found a familiar place on your mound and pulled you closer to him over the silk sheets, and your breath caught, surprised. 

“Regis,” you whispered hesitantly, and he hummed again in reply, you felt his cock hardening against you as he pushed you up further against him and it sent a wave of warmth and tingling through you. His index and middle finger found their way to your clitoris and started to gently, sweetly caress you there, and it felt so nice you had to squeeze your thighs together.

 _“Maina,”_ he whispered back, his hot breath on your ear and his hand on you made you coo as he started rolling his hips against you - his other hand gripped your breast and started massaging it. You shuddered as his erection pushed up against you. For a moment he withdrew the arm he had slid under you from your breast, and you felt his upper chest leave your back, as well as some of his sweet scent.

“Regis?” you questioned in a whisper, wondering what he was doing. The fingers that had slowed their pace slightly pushed tighter against your clit in response and you stifled a squeal into your forearm. Then his chest was against your back once more and his mouth near your ear.

“What _ahh_ were?” you tried to begin, but Regis relieved you of the effort.

“Lubricant,” he said simply, kissing your jaw. You moaned at the tautness of his hand that drew circles on your bulb. He cleared his throat hesitantly, but his dick seemed eager, and his hand pushed into you further, and you bit at your forearm again as he quickened his pace and asked teasingly, “I thought you wanted to have us both, _dear?”_

Your eyes widened as they rolled - you decidedly liked it when it called you _dear_ like _that_ \- and you pointed your gaze towards him, “Ahh, n- _uegh_ -ow, _Reg_ is?”

Regis’ eyes fluttered at his name and growled. He nodded, and bit his lip, his nostrils flaring. You glanced at Dettlaff, then back to the older vampire, “should I wake him?””

Regis bit harder into his bottom lip until he drew blood, his fingers stern against you as he leaned closer and whispered “you will,” into your ear.

You felt the _very_ slippery head of his stiff dick start to go somewhere new, as his other hand firmly gripped your ass cheek, his dick started to enter your ass, _“Good god,”_ he moaned into your ear, his chest pushing up against you. His breathing became more rapid before bringing you nearer and bucking into you completely. 

_“Ah,”_ you yelped at the pain, “ow, _Regis,”_ your voice got so shrill that it nearly hurt your own ears when you heard it. The older vampire stopped his movements immediately, his chest pressing up against you more slowly. 

Dettlaff stirred, and in a _second_ was on top of the both of you, trying to figure out how you were hurt. His hand landed on Regis’ neck and he hissed at him, his eerily light blue eyes piercing the darkness intensely, his broad chest illuminated in the moonlight. You felt Regis’ long, hard cock leave you slightly, then slowly fill you again, and you moaned. You saw Dettlaff’s gaze go to you and his eyes widen before Regis started fucking you harder. 

_“Oh god, Regis,”_ you gasped at the pressure, his fingers resuming their pace. Regis thrust again. _“Regis,”_ you yapped, and he answered your call by tightening his grip on you and moaning into your cheek, sloppily kissing you. You heard your voice get pitchy in excitement, _“fu-uhck.”_

“Maina,” Dettlaff’s breathing was unsteadying, the movement of his broad chest was exciting you in and of itself, his light grey eyes flickering from yours to every inch of your body and back in the moonlight. One of Dettlaff’s large hands went to your hips and the other behind you to Regis and in one swift movement rolled the two of you so that you were facing him - Regis’ moaned pitchily as his arm steadied you on top of him, pushing his dick further into your ass. 

Dettlaff’s nostrils flared as he slid his large body up against you. He swatted Regis’ hand from you as he lowered himself, either wanting your front to himself or not wanting you to finish yet and you moaned for him in his ear. 

Your breathing became erratic in understanding what was about to happen, and Regis’ stilled. Dettlaff’s hand cupped your cheek and looked into your eyes, “Ready?” You nodded. His eyes widening slightly, he swallowed and, pulling one of your legs around him, felt him begin sliding his cock into you. His round, fatty head slowly making its way to the back of your pussy until his base hit your open thighs, _“Maina,”_ he hissed.

You squealed, your chest beginning to rise and fall at the two bodies that surrounded you, that _filled_ you. Your insides tightened aggressively, and a weird noise escaped you from the odd sensation of having each of their cocks inside you. The pressure was insanely pleasant. It was much _more_ than pleasant...

 _“Fuck,”_ you squealed, chest now heaving, and grabbed at them both. You were becoming so excited that you hadn’t realized the vampires had gone still as you constricted against them, and opened your eyes to see Dettlaff observing you, looking completely in a daze with his nostrils flaring. His _fangs_ were growing.

 _“Is this, okay?”_ he rumbled unsteadily, his lashes fluttering. You nodded, feeling him _pulse_ inside you and you closed your eyes, grabbing for him and pulling him to you. His hot breath was on your shoulder when you heard him whimper, his voice pitchy and nearly cracking as he thrust himself into you a second time, holding it there as his head made its way further and further inside you.

 _“Dettlaff,”_ you moaned, as they both started fucking you. Two sets of vampiric hands suddenly couldn’t get enough of you, and hearing both of them moan your name as you felt them in their separate rhythms was causing you more excitement than you could handle.

 _“God,”_ you gasped, “fucking _damn it,”_ you heard your own voice getting heady as you started to lose yourself. Then you felt something graze your shoulder. They were hard, pointy, and sharp, and you gasped in surprise, looking back and pushing on the mattress away from Regis’ fangs when you saw Dettlaff’s hand go to his chest and steady him - “Regis,” Dettlaff’s voice was commanding and reassuring. His energy was unpredictably calm, and helped ease the panicked beating of your heart. You felt Regis slide himself out of you, and you bit your lip from the momentary pain of his extraction. Dettlaff held you tightly against his firm body.

Regis was panting when he choked out, “a moment,” and dissipated into smoke.

Before you knew it Dettlaff was hastily back to kissing you, “how-” he breathed, “are you okay?” instead of waiting for an answer, though, you felt the head of his cock sliding into you to the point where you nearly screamed and he shuddered, letting out a low noise you’d never heard him make before. You nodded a yes into his neck, feeling his chest heaving against you, out of control as he desperately tried to find a way to hold you closer and he started fucking you _hard._ _“Dettlaff,”_ you moaned. He slapped your ass with his hands, kneading you into him and your eyes rolled to the ceiling where a billow of black and navy smoke was spilling from it back onto the bed, before Regis perched himself behind you, feeling hard as ever. Dettlaff’s pace quickened and he started moaning into your jawline.

 _“Dettlaff,”_ you started to squeal, becoming overwhelmed and beginning to peak against the pressure of Dettlaff’s long, thick erection. Dettlaff growled your name and you felt him beginning to cum inside you. He held your upper body tightly to him, filling you with his girth more than he had been and causing another quake of pleasure to hit you and you clawed at him desperately, feeling him tighten his hold on you caressing your body as the rest of your climax washed over you.

Dettlaff’s body was rising and falling where he held you suspended off the mattress, trying to catch his breath, your hair sticking to his sweaty face, _“Are you okay?”_

You barked out a laugh and his handsome brows shot up in surprise. You smiled, “I wasn’t aware there was this much checking in when it came to vampire threesomes.”

He averted his gaze, blushing, and you wrapped your hands around his neck and kissed his prominent cheek bone, “I like it,” you whispered, and heard him swallow.

“I love you,” he whispered back and kissed you, then cleared his throat, “um, I’ll leave you with Regis.” Then he looked into your eyes, “If that's what you want?” You smiled, and he kissed you one more time.

Dettlaff set you on the bed and eyed the older vampire momentarily before nodding and walking out of the room. Regis hesitantly pulled you into him as you giggled, revelling in la petit mort. His eyes lit up at the sight of your giggling, and the sight of your being comfortable with him.

He bit his lip again, then he brought you against his front and set you on him, before he began gently kissing the rear and side of your neck. 

“Where did you go?” you leaned into his face where his mouth caressed you.

He cleared his throat, “I had to calm down, and,” his voice was silky and smooth as he lifted you slightly, and pulled you down on top of him, “and we’re trying, so I washed up,” he slid his dick into your _pussy,_ and you jolted from the fluidity of the movement, not having expected it. Regis moaned and thrust his hips, “fuck, _Maina.”_ Despite yourself, you were _completely_ aroused again.

_These vampires are going to kill me._

He licked the length of your face as he brought your back flat against him on the mattress and bucked into you again and your eyes reeled.

“ _Oh,_ Regis,” you rolled your hips against his hard pillar that split you and shuddered. Catching your breath, you put your palm tenderly on his cheek to try to steady his movements, wanting to tell him. You turned your face to the side and kissed him, then swallowed, feeling your heart pound against your chest, “I’m pregnant.”

Regis froze for a moment, blinking. You began rising and falling from the movement of his chest underneath you. “Really?”

The dark, swirling pools of Regis’ eyes held you in their warm embrace so reverently you thought you could be cut from it, “yes.”

“Maina,” he started kissing you, cupping your face, “Really?”

“Yes,” you gasped as his cock unexpectedly dug into you nearly painfully, _“Maina_ ,” Regis’ voice jumped an octave as he became more excited, shoving himself into you again and stayed there, _“May-”_ he grabbed you so hard and desperately, his tongue and lips working against and with yours. He wrapped his legs around you and a hand went to your lower abdomen pulling you towards him. _“Maina,”_ his voice was undoing itself as he started to spill his seed inside of you, calling your name into you, pushing his face against the side of yours and clawing at you until his movements slowed to a halt. 

His chest was still rising and falling rapidly where he clung onto you, _tightly._ Protectively, even.

“Maina,” Regis repeated your name again, as if testing it out for the first time, as if it had new meaning, or life. You felt your face being cupped in his hands and before you knew what was happening, he was kissing you and flipping you around so that you were straddling him, _“Maina.”_

You kissed him back as his hands caressed you fervently. “Thank you,” Regis’ words were almost intelligible as he took a breath before his lips pushed up against yours, again, “thank you so much,” he spoke into your mouth, his hands on the back and side of your head and face, “I don’t care about guilt,” his chest rose and fell against you fiercely, “I love you,” the touch of his lips became tender as he exhaled into you, “I love you _so much.”_

You felt your own breathing become intense and you could feel yourself squinting your eyes shut tightly. When he pulled away from you his expression was so genuine - his dark, endless eyes glistening, and his nose was a funny pink color. He searched your gaze, his forehead tensed, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you barked out a laugh, wiping your eyes of your tears. “Nothing is wrong, Regis. I’m so,” you closed your eyes shut hard again and bit your lip, trying in vain to stop more tears from rolling down your cheeks. When they did, Regis’ beautiful, long fingers gracefully swept them from you, “I’m just happy to see you happy, Regis.” You felt your chest deflate and expand so quickly you unintentionally huffed, “you have no idea how much it means to me to see you happy.”

When you looked up at Regis’, dark, shimmering eyes, he shook his head before he closed them, and he held you tightly to him. “You have no idea what you’ve come to mean to me, Maina.” His hands stroked the back of your head, lightly. “But I promise to show you as much as I can.”

His chest was rising and falling rapidly, still, when he fell back asleep holding you tightly to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW's: graphic depictions of sex, DP action, talk of pregnancy, umm, I don't know probably more. 
> 
> Alright this is like the fifth and longest (ugh) version of their first threesome. WHY?!?! The first four versions of this threesome became WAY too advanced. Good god just off the rails all over the place. People doin’ back flips, boners flying into holes with perfect 10/10 Olympic landings, boys on boys on boys on boys like they’ve been lovin’ each other for years. Yada fucking blah blah into hoo-ha. It was a mess. It was a damn, irresponsible mess. People bustin' out into monsters and such (I almost left that part in this one). I'm laughing so hard at myself about it.
> 
> Hyperbole aside, systematically editing smut is absolutely not my style (and maybe no one's) so removing the crazy bits and taming this was horrific for me. There might be some serious instructional intimacy ahead for our three lovebirds! There will still of course be 1x1 intimacy. XD
> 
> Sexcript:  
> Maina: "Heya hey, hear-tell, I'm pregnant."  
> Regis: "Oh my! I love you so much! I'm super happy. Weird that you can tell after five days but OK."  
> Maina: "The happiness makes me cry! Don't worry about it, it was sorceress magic pregnancy test!"  
> Regis: "Crying? That is an indication of sadness! This is actually more informative to me than the real conversation! Real me doesn't know how you know you're pregnant for certain! The things you learn in the end notes! Let's invite Dettlaff sometime!" 
> 
> I'm done.


	46. The Van Der Ereteins [revised]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maina and Dettlaff get to know each other better and have many an interesting conversation along the way!
> 
> This is kind of a long chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW's: talk of abandonment, talk of manslaughter I s'pose, etc. 
> 
> I revised this a bit, wanting to add a little piece from Dettlaff about his sketchbook. I was going to include it originally, but I was second guessing myself because of a slow and stupid sabotage I was allowing to take place here. (The person knows, so if you are wondering if it is you- it’s not you. You’re lovely!) Thank you to everyone who commented asking where the chapter went because I sincerely wasn't certain if I was going to keep posting what I wrote anymore, I was so fucking drained and hurt by it. I would eventually make myself, I'm sure, because those of you who do like this fic mean a lot to me. <3<3
> 
> A word in the end notes about Geralt and Dettlaff cause I guess it might be needed? Maybe a quick note about this entire fic, too, lmao.
> 
> Enjoy and stay safe out there!!! Thank you so much to everyone!

  
  


Dettlaff and you were sitting on the marble checkered floor of the sunny study. The balcony door was open, and the views from the second story were as gorgeous as the third and first, and the breeze that ran through the open door of it smelled just as good on the second story as well. It wasn’t surprising, but you were noting it, anyway. It was just before noon, as you had slept in with Regis, who you had to practically _peel_ off of you in order to feed Dacreval and find Dettlaff to ask him for help with this little project. Of course Dettlaff reacted to you wanting to create scientific illustrations for Regis’ many journals (Dettlaff had a fancy term for the ones with plants in them, and you were intentionally avoiding trying to use it - or more so butchering it - in front of him) by picking you up in his arms and claiming you for the afternoon. 

Regis had apparently already made up his mind to teach you and Dettlaff how to cook a Toussaint dish (which had a name you couldn’t pronounce) later that evening, so was satisfied with spending the day in the garden preparing for that with Dacreval and... Geralt, who had - and you quote - “ _the afternoon open_ ”.

You felt that this would be the first of many open afternoons for him.

This was great and all, but you had almost been hoping for a little more resistance from one of them. Some call to a witcher contract, or some weird vampiric fatherly need to be with their mate during the first hours post pregnancy-notification...or some such absurdity. Not the entire world of resistance, not the earth’s gravitational _pull_ , or anything that drastic, but a little. _Some_ tiny morsel of a distraction you could use an excuse. Why? Because today was _tomorrow,_ and that meant Dettlaff and you had a date to get to know each other. 

You’d been trying to render varying umbels for the past half hour while Dettlaff thumbed through Regis’ journal when you finally caved, and eyed the handsome, leatherbound article Dettlaff had brought with him. Your dark haired mate’s sketchbook was impressive on the inside as it was the out. He had several, but brought one in particular that housed “wildlife”. It was a deep burgundy leather, and had golden inlays on the spine. You’d gone over the ass half of it - the part that Dettlaff told you would be helpful, several times already. There were _hundreds_ of beautiful, accurate renderings in it and you were beginning to think you should just use _his_ instead. In fact you were becoming more than enthusiastic about the idea.

-

You opened the fine sketchbook again, this time to its beginning and flipping through it, slowly stopped. Dettlaff’s hand gripped it and tossed it across the shiny, rich hardwood floor. Your mouth dropped open. He rolled flat onto his back and put his forearms over his face, having nothing to do with shading it from the sunlight coming through the window. 

Uncontrollable laughter filled you as you _also_ found your body against the floor, rolling. Dettlaff remained stiff where he laid as you tried and failed to stifle the incoming giggles and wondered why Dettlaff had an indecorous depiction of _Geralt_ in his sketchbook followed by at _least_ three months’ worth of drawings of you, dated from before you went to the graveyard.

You rolled to him and sat up, then decided that you’d rather sit _on_ him and flipped your leg over his midriff. Snorting, you asked, “Mind telling me what _that_ was?”

“He has nice skin,” Dettlaff growled under his forearms. You felt your eyebrows raise.

 _“Nice skin?”_ you thought of his scars and, forgetting the drawings of _you_ for a moment, started laughing again, grabbing Dettlaff’s wrists and trying to remove them from his face. You saw a small smile start to form on his lips, finally. The only parts of his face showing were his handsome jaw, chin, and mouth...it aroused you, and you found yourself wondering how _good_ he’d look in a masquerade mask. “Nice _skin?_ Well you certainly included _enough_ of it.”

“Pure extrapolation,” he explained tersely, pushing his lips together and fighting the smile from your infectious and incessant _giggling,_ and probably now also from sensing your arousal. He sighed, biting his lower lip, but then his brows pushed down, "Don't tell me you're aroused by the thought of..."

"Ew," you interjected, "I'm not _anything_ by the thought of _anything_ that has to do with Geralt." You felt yourself starting to smile again, "unlike _someone..._ "

Dettlaff growled and you giggled. The set of his jaw relaxed, visibly relieved, “That sketch is from a long time ago, Maina.”

“Ah _huh_ ,” you snorted, “ _that’s_ something. I didn’t know _Geralt_ had been my,” laughter overtook you again as you thought of your forever dorky, incredibly lovable white haired companion, “ _competition.”_

“Unlikely. The witcher despised me,” Dettllaff finally let his forearms fall, revealing a slight blush still on his face and rolled his eyes at you. You felt his large arms pull you in closer as his eyes met yours, “and _no one_ is competition to _you.”_

You stopped laughing, then.

“Those drawings of me,” you felt yourself rubbing your own arm, “they’re dated from before,” you thought of bumping into him in Beauclair, “...before we were properly introduced.”

 _Dated in the two weeks between,_ you thought, and recalled how you’d dreamt of him in that time. Dettlaff nodded, gazing at the ceiling.

“I had not known what overcame me,” he admitted, a breeze carrying a strand of dark hair across his jaw and cheekbone. 

You weren’t sure of what to do with that information.

“Ninety-six,” Dettlaff’s eyes returned to yours, “After sensing you in Beauclair and righting your fainting spell, I drew your face ninety-six times.”

You shifted on him, and he closed his eyes, blushing again.

“I missed you,” his torso went still beneath you, “though I knew I did not know you, and I became filled with fear and disdain from a rejection I had convinced myself was inevitable, if ever we should properly know each other.”

You swallowed and waited for him to continue until finally he did.

“I believe Regis recognized what was happening to me,” he reopened his eyes and let them pierce you, “that I had found my Acern Ara, and brought you to stay with us. ...I hadn't known then he could sense you, then, so I was incensed when I came to the conclusion that he had gone through my sketchbook and realized what I had thought to be my weakness.” A small smile appeared on his face, “But with that breach of privacy came you, and you were so ready to be around me. I could sense your excitement when I became excited, and your weariness when I was weary. I could feel myself beginning to mimic your feelings without realizing it, wanting to be closer. It didn’t make sense to me,” his fangs peered out from behind his lips as his chest rose and fell, “Then you had come to me, with the knowledge of what I was, and…” he closed his eyes, “suddenly I was being told by you that I was not what I’d been made to feel I was.” His breath hitched, “That I was not bad. After that, I didn’t think I could stand to be without you.”

Dettlaff’s eyes opened, the blue grey of them shining in the sunlight through the window, and flitted across your features, _“No one_ is competition to _you.”_

You swallowed at the intensity of his gaze as his smile fell from it and he went to kiss you, but a knot still in your chest made you sigh, “because I’m your Acern Ara?”

Dettlaff looked at you and frowned, “What?”

His mouth turned downwards and he let you slide from where you sat on his torso, before he rolled on the shiny wood floor to his side and perched himself up on his elbow. His hand went to your chin, caressing it. 

“Because I _love_ _you,_ Maina,” his brows were puckered up in the middle, and his eyes were now dancing over you in concern. His chest expanded, “Maina?”

“Because I’m…”

“You’re caring?” you stopped at his words, and felt your face heat. “Or intelligent?”

Your blush deepened.

“Persevering? Funny?” his eyes were lighting up as he spoke, “or how you skip to and fro and drag me along by the arm in public,” his fangs were peeking through his lips, “or how you talk to your horse?” He started to grin at that one. “Or how your mind is like a sponge and you absorb everything,” his eyes were squinty in happiness as he looked at you and passed you, cocking his head, “or how you are kind to _everyone,”_ he rolled his eyes acting as if that quality were exhausting, then got serious, “unless they do not deserve it, but even _then_ you have trouble…”

“Okay,” you started to bury your face in your hands, “you don’t have to keep going.”

You felt him pull you in, and he cupped your head with his hands, his thumbs massaging your temples so that you would open your eyes and look at him. When you did, his brows were turned down and his nostrils flaring, but not in an angry way. His energy was overwhelmingly _warm,_ and only getting _warmer._ “Or how you love our son,” his voice cracked, “...how you love _me,”_ his chest was rising and falling, now, “how that makes _me_ feel.”

He shut his eyes closed tight and pulled you in next to him. “I love you so much,” he breathed into your hair, his voice becoming a whisper as he held you, “however you justify it.”

His energy calmed directly at the point where it was just becoming too hot, and as it cooled felt as though it trickled down your body, making you sigh. You smiled. You loved him too. You loved him so much. 

“So, you don’t hate Geralt?” you asked, surprising yourself at the change of subject.

Dettlaff rumbled, “why are we still talking about the witcher?”

“Because you having had a secret, angry crush on him is possibly the cutest thing I’ve ever-” Dettlaff rolled you over into his body, smothering your voice and turning it into giggles as he nestled his muzzle in your hair. 

“That was a long time ago,” he said, sternly. 

“Dettlaff, that sketch was dated last winter,” you snorted into his chest.

“See?” he replied, sounding like he was maybe going to snort with you.

“Oh my god,” you sighed, giggles forming in your throat again. “Oh my god.”

“It was nothing, Maina,” he cleared his throat, “I merely acknowledged that he had nice skin.”

 _“Had?”_ you asked.

Dettlaff vibrated out a rumble, lowly, and stuck his forearms over his face, again. “Not a word to him,” he stiffened, “if there is I might kill him from embarrassment alone.”

“First of all, that’s not funny,” you scolded his handsome lower jaw where it sat under the rolled cuffs of his maroon tunic, then sat up and looked through the window, trying to see Geralt with Regis and Dacreval in the garden, “secondly of _course_ I won’t tell him. Though I do feel weird about it. He _is_ my best friend, you know.”

Dettlaff let out another low rumbling sound, “there is no one other than you for me now, Maina,” he removed his forearms from his face, and gave you a sober look when he saw your expression, “and no, it isn’t only for that you’re my Acern Ara. It’s not as if all true higher vampires fall in love with theirs, if they find them.”

His long fingers were starting to play with the ends of the strands of your hair as he went on. “I wasn’t necessarily kidding when I said they’re usually eaten,” he swallowed, and his brows turned down again, this time in a deadly manner, “that wasn’t uncommon. I can’t say that the practice doesn’t happen, still. _Especially_ if the Acern Ara is human.”

“But Regis told me that the blood of Acern Ara’s isn’t...addicting?”

Dettlaff blinked at you as if he couldn’t see the connection, and you realized that maybe Acern Ara's weren't being eaten by accident. “My species spend their lives repressing strong desires out of necessity to assimilate. A thing making us feel strongly the opposite is powerful.” 

You frowned in confusion, “So? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Vampires don’t like it when things hold power over them, darling. Especially when those things,” he grabbed you, his large hands pulling you back to him, “are tender,” he sat up to you, “breakable,” and kissed your neck, “little _humans,”_ you gasped in excitement when his fangs grazed your jugular and he broke out in a low laugh, laying back down and looking up at you. His eyes slowly blinking as they took you in. You took the opportunity to swat his shoulder, pretending to be _scandalized._

He was so _big,_ compared to you, and some of the words he’d just spoken made you shiver. Suddenly you felt cold despite the sunlight, and you thought of how you were a descendent of those experiments. How they were treated like livestock. Like _less_ than livestock. Something in you didn’t feel comfortable sitting on top of him, just then, and you realized you were clenching your teeth at the pit forming in your stomach. 

“Maina,” Dettlaff whispered, his vampiric hand went to your face and you flinched, slightly. You looked up at him and saw that he looked broken about his heart, but all you could do was swallow and shut your eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you told him, closing your eyes harder, feeling your lip twitch in a sudden urge to cry. You felt Dettlaff’s large hands wrap around your shoulders and waist before he slowly brought you down next to him. 

You heard his mouth working, opening and closing as if he wanted to speak, but instead just rubbed the back of your head. Finally Dettlaff spoke, “I’m the one who should be sorry,” his voice broke and clearing it, dropped into a whisper, “it wasn’t a very funny joke.”

“It’s stupid that I’m crying,” you cried into his shoulder, poetically.

“No,” he stroked your hair, “no, my treasure, it isn’t.”

You wiped your nose on your wrist lightly and sat up astride him. Dettlaff looked terrible, and you smiled sadly at him, wanting to apologize again. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“It isn’t you who made it this way,” a sad smile formed on his mouth, “and you make me feel wonderful, Maina.”

“It’s ‘Me-Nah’,” you shrugged, sniffling, still feeling a little stiff. 

His eyes got wide and he arched a brow, the sadness fled his expression immediately and was replaced with a sly amusement. Your mouth went dry just slightly and you forgot your _own_ sadness...he looked _unreasonably_ sexy. 

“Excuse me?” Dettlaff’s low voice resonated with levity as he awaited your explanation.

“It’s tomorrow. So we’re talking about our pasts,” you started, your efforts to swallow futile, “and my name is technically pronounced ‘Me-Nah’, but not ‘Meena’ or ‘meh-neh’.” 

“Me-Nah,” Dettlaff repeated perfectly and your heart stopped from it. 

“Whuh-” you stammered, your heart beating again, skipping into hyper-drive. You wanted him to say it again, you felt your breath catch. You wanted him to say it again _now._ Dettlaff noticed your reaction. 

“When was the last time a being pronounced it correctly?” he asked.

“Yennefer did last night,” you replied too quickly, and his countenance turned skeptical and knowing. 

“And before that?” he raised a brow, but the set of his forehead looked worried. You shifted on top of him, and his hands went to caress your thighs where they wrapped around his waist.

“Um,” your body was beginning to feel warm, “that would have been my parents.”

He nodded.

“Or my brother,” you swallowed, “not my sister.”

“Would you like to tell me about them?” He asked, trying to help you through this. You closed your eyes and nodded. Getting to know each other. Right. 

“My sister died when I was…” you stopped, remembering the nightmares... and your heart sank.

You had always thought you’d simply smothered her by accident as you slept, just as your parents had believed.

“Maina?” Dettlaff’s hands held you more firmly, thumbs beginning to caress you, the sound of your actual name brought your focus back to the sunny study. “I won’t stop loving you.”

You looked down at him, his grey eyes filled with understanding. You blinked. “Last night Yennefer told me that the first time someone like me gets pulled into Krael’ef, into that place, they have to be very upset. I don’t think I felt anything for years leading up to the incident in Redania. Or at least nothing very strong. I’d given up by that point.” 

His brows pulled down and you let your eyes wander, not being able to take the confused, sad look on his face without crying. 

“I certainly felt something the day I woke up to,” you sighed, “ _that_ day. After the dream. After my massacre,” you looked up at him sheepishly, “But even before that,” you felt your chest stop moving, “I…”

Dettlaff’s hands were still holding you steady. 

“I used to have night terrors when I was younger...unexplainable and random night terrors of men without faces creeping into my room at night,” your face heated and you tried to roll off him, but he held you firmly where you were, “and one night I was,” you inhaled sharply, realizing what you were saying as you worked out what this new information from Yennefer meant for you in front of him. In front of _yourself._ “And one night I was afraid, and I,” you felt yourself barreling through your thoughts, “and I went and brought my little sister into my room so I wouldn’t have to sleep alone,” you felt tears running down your cheeks as you remembered how she had laid so still in the bed, “but by the morning she had passed.” 

Dettlaff’s arms brought you down to him, “shhhh,” he cooed as you cried into him, “it isn’t your fault, Maina. If it _was_ you.” 

“How could it not be?” you wailed, thinking of Myre and how small and helpless she was. She was a _baby._ She had _blood_ streaking from her eyes. You realized you were shaking, “I just wanted to be near her because I was afraid I think.”

Dettlaff stroked the back of your head again, “of course you did, Maina. Of course you would. Anyone would want that.”

It wasn’t a new pain - you’d known in some way shape or form you were responsible for Myre’s...for her passing, but now it was a pain that made you feel like the world would have been better off without you. It was no longer an accident that _anyone_ could have had happen to them. 

“She died because I’m a freak,” you blurted the words as a gasp into Dettlaff’s shoulder.

“Never say that, my treasure,” he whispered throatily into your hair and hummed lowly as he rubbed your back. It was very soothing, but his energy was murky and trembling.

You cried harder, not wanting to cause him more pain, “I don’t want to start talking about my adulthood, about Redania right now.”

“You don’t have to talk about anything right now, my Maina,” he exhaled deeply and swallowed. “I am so sorry.” 

You nodded into his broad shoulder and he picked you up, his low voice resonated steadily, “Perhaps our son is ready to part with Geralt and Regis, for now.” He dipped his head and his eyes took you in.

“I don’t think I could look at him,” you admitted, ashamed. 

A long vampiric finger went under your chin and caressed it, tilting your head up slightly until you found the prominent chin and masculine features of Dettlaff’s face. He gazed down at you. “He is our son. He is _your_ son. You deserve him, because he _is_ you.” 

“Not the good parts…” you sniffled, but felt a bit better.

Dettlaff barked out a laugh as he opened the door with his boot and carried you out into the mahogany lined hallway, “and what of the inexcusable behavior at Tesham Mutna?”

For some reason _that_ put things into perspective for you, too. 

“Yeah,” you sniveled, finding your head rest against Dettlaff’s comfortable chest, “I guess you and I aren’t so bad.” 

He chuckled, “I haven’t even told you about my childhood in Nazair.”

“Today _is_ today,” you reminded him, and he shook his head. 

“Yes, time keeper,” he nuzzled the top of your head, “oh _wise_ schedule maker…how much time _is_ left of today? Who was it who slept-in with the new father until it was nearly noon?”

You blushed, and he kissed your forehead, “I do love you so much.”

His hand went to the small of your belly as he walked onto the balcony and frowned, looking at the empty garden. A low thrum emanated from him. A thrum of the dangerous variety.

“I do not enjoy when our son isn’t where he was left,” his body tightened, and his energy spiked hectically. 

“Do you feel him?” you asked, and Dettlaff shook his head. 

“I didn’t notice his absence, either,” he admitted, “it’s difficult to keep track of things, sometimes, when I’m with you.”

You stretched out in his arms, “yeah, well,” you smiled at him, “I _am_ pretty overwhelming.”

He smirked, “indeed.”

Dettlaff’s energy had cooled, slightly, but you could tell that he was worried. Dacreval in Geralt and Regis’ care to _you_ meant that he was safe as always. You knew to Dettlaff it meant the next best thing to Dacre being in _his_ care, but he probably wouldn’t be able to rest or focus without checking on their whereabouts. 

“Dettlaff,” he turned his head from looking around back to you with a hum, “you can go look for them.”

He pursed his lips and drew a breath, “He is more than likely fine…” he sniffed the air and held you tighter, then looked at you guiltily, “I won’t be long. Should I return him to you?”

You weren’t certain you would be able to concentrate on both Dacreval and opening up to his father at the same time. Not to mention once Dettlaff was with him he couldn’t concentrate on anything else. Well, you. He could concentrate on Dacreval and you, but you needed him to concentrate on himself if you were ever going to know more about him. 

“No,” you replied, sadly, and felt Dettlaff saddened by that, too, “no, we should finish this conversation first. Then we’ll reward ourselves.”

Dettlaff barked, then kissed you, “it will be faster if I go alone.”

You nodded, and he set you down. Walking towards the balustrade, he faded - shifting into the air.

Seeing him do that never ceased to send a shiver of excitement down your spine. You paced for a short while, fretting over conversations that might not even happen. Then you squinted through the sun out over the fountains and to where the garden was beginning to take shape. Regis was making some decent progress, you thought. You also wondered where the hell he had gotten all of the nearly mature plants that filled it - the entire thing was already green and lush. Vines were even fully intertwining with several tall trellises that complimented the entrances to the bungalows. Arms crossing under breast, you involuntarily started shaking your head and laughed. 

_What kind of father are you going to be, Regis?_ It made your heart skip. _He_ made your heart skip.

Just then you felt two large hands on your waist, and Dettlaff was picking you up. He looked visibly relieved. 

“So? Where were they?” you grinned so damn broadly at the state of him happy.

“The market square,” he replied before nuzzling your neck. Your eyes widened at the fact that you just heard _Dettlaff_ say the words ‘market square’ with a _smile_ on his face. His son could make him happy at a crowded _church service for Lebioda,_ you thought. Then Dettlaff’s mouth grazed your neck and he asked, breath hot, into your skin, “admiring the garden, are we?”

Without warning, he turned both of you to smoke and you came to on the walkway in the recently planted garden. 

-

Dettlaff sat you down in a chair at the small, simple, iron yard table you recognized from _Geralt’s_ courtyard. A breeze ran through the leaves of the vines that now surrounded you on two sides, making the sunlight appear to be dancing across the greenery and creating a soothing, swishing noise. It prickled your warm, balmy skin. For a moment you thought you might lose consciousness at the sight of Dettlaff in this gentle virescence - the backdrop of Toussaint’s countryside off the balcony flattering but altogether not holding a candle to him. 

Then he tossed the sketchbook that you _thought_ should still be sitting under the armoire of the study onto the ground next to the table, along with two pieces of charcoal, a towel-wrapped jar of adhesive, and one of Regis’ journals. 

“I will teach you some new techniques for you to use before we speak, perhaps,” Dettlaff stated as he sat in the iron chair across from you, “You’ll be pasting creations of your own in Regis’ florilegium.”

“ _What?”_ you asked, your eyes flashing at everything he’d tossed onto the dirt and marble beside your feet instead of in between you on the grated table. Well, no, you _whined,_ “but you nearly have a sketch of every stupid bit of flora the continent has on it! It’s an economical use of our time to choose from them!”

“Mmm,” Dettlaff hummed, his nostrils flaring, “but then you wouldn’t grow, my darling.”

Originally, you were _all for_ making and placing _your_ drawings in Regis’ journal, or Flagellum or whatever, but after having looked at Dettlaff’s again started feeling so self conscious about your own that you figured you could just use his. _Why would Regis want my mediocre doodles over Dettlaff’s mastercraft?_

You melted onto the remaining slabs of marble in the garden’s path, “I hate straight backed chairs.”

Dettlaff lifted his brows, “I know.”

You followed his eyes to the sketchbook, Regis’ journal, jar of adhesive, and pieces of charcoal that he had tossed onto the ground, now sitting inches from your face.

“Oh,” you chuckled, blushing and feeling a little naked. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye and silently admired his dark hair curling around his ears and gulped. _“Dettlaff.”_

“Yes, Maina?” he pronounced it correctly again and for a split second you saw stars.

“I was just saying your name,” you replied, and he smiled. “...and you don’t have to pronounce _my_ name like that, if you don’t want.” 

Dettlaff sat down behind you, bringing you close to him and up on his lap so that your back was resting up against his large front.

“Which way would you prefer I pronounce it?” he asked in earnest.

You thought that was something you’d have to consider. You weren’t certain if you wanted everyone knowing about it or making a big stink over it. Mostly because your name itself had become, in a way, a point of pain for you. 

Dettlaff cleared his throat and you realized that everything you had just been thinking were things that you could articulate to him. You craned your neck and peered up at your true higher vampire - his jaw sat relaxed, his eyes soft and patient, the corner of his mouth brought back ever so slightly in thoughtful, caring contemplation as he watched you mulling things over with his passionate concern. 

_Yes,_ you swallowed thickly, _he is the safest place._

He began lifting a hand to your face, and before he could relay to you again what you were certain would be the message that he would still love you, you cleared your throat. 

“I’m not sure which way I want you to pronounce it,” you frowned, “it used to be that I hated my name, because of what it reminded me of. I’m realizing that maybe what it was reminding me of was myself…” you felt your eyes water, “so I changed the way it was spoken, not being able to take the sound of it in my ears any longer.” His large hand fell from where it had intended to caress you and he rested his chin on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your front, “but when _you_ said my name earlier, when you said it just now, it felt right. It felt better.” You sighed, and Dettlaff’s chest lulled against your back, “maybe it’s time I tried to make amends with my name.” 

You hesitated, “at least my first name.”

Dettlaff’s body went stiff, and you actually felt yourself physically rise further off the ground from his muscles flexing at once. 

You were going to have to tell him about the change of your last name...you _knew_ Yennefer. You _knew_ Yennefer _knew_ you. You _knew_ that, even though the two of you were going to see each other again tomorrow night, that she was more than likely penning a letter -- or already sending one -- to this estate with your new name on it. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that she had changed it legally by this point. Yennefer just had _access_ to things that other people didn’t. It drove you mad, sometimes. 

Dettlaff was very pointedly _not_ saying anything. His body was unmoving, his energy swirling only so slightly. One of your eyebrows furrowed at the fact that it seemed he too, was practiced in the art of letting you gather your thoughts.

It wasn’t until you were starting to squirm in his lap where he held you, trying to figure out where to start that he offered, “and why only your first name?”

“Can I sit facing yo-”

His hands went to your waist and before you knew it, you’d been picked up, rotated and sat back down, straddling him. Your breath caught at the poise of the maneuver and the fact that Dettlaff van der Eretein’s light grey eyes were now piercing you. 

“Yennefer needed me to change my last name,” you started and Dettlaff’s eyes widened - his pupil’s becoming the size of moons.

“And?” his nostrils flared, and that smiling sneer was creeping onto his face. It looked _dangerous._

“I…” you blinked at how intense Dettlaff’s eyes were as they watched your mouth form each word, “I don’t know how it happened exactly but I chose your name. I just, immediately chose your name without thinking. It wasn’t even a question. I’m sorry if that’s completely over-”

Dettlaff’s eyes were still on your mouth as he pressed his face to yours. His large hands held your waist tightly as his lips overwhelmed the rest of your statement. He had to move one of his hands to the back of your head, holding you in place against the passion of his kiss. His tongue slid into your mouth and his other hand was beginning to explore, readily. Dettlaff’s chest rising and falling against you. You felt him hardening in excitement under where you sat before he broke the embrace and held you, trying to catch his breath and calm himself.

“You took my name?” he asked, breathlessly into your hair before pulling his joyed and bewildered face back to appraise your expression and you his. 

You bit your lip and nodded, and he bit _his_ lip and _he_ nodded, before the breadth of his mirth released his bottom lip and he kissed you again, laughing.

“You took my name,” he smiled, eyes dancing. “Maina van der Eretein,” he pronounced your first name as he always had, “ _Maina_ van der Eretein,” he tested the new pronunciation out as well. He slid his tongue over his bottom lip. “Do you like it?”

“To say I like it is an understatement,” you replied, truthfully. “It feels right.”

“It does,” he nodded, his eyes glistening in moisture, chest expanding in pride. “Are you sure you don’t want yours anymore?”

“Yes,” you looked away momentarily, “Van der Eretein feels more like mine than mine ever did.”

His eyes flitted across your face and his brows drew down, slightly, “may I ask what it was?” It was a whisper.

“Um,” you blushed, “together it was Maina Mehaeth crail’Haleah Theley Thredale.”

_God why did it have to be so long and stupid._

You were surprised that Dettlaff hadn’t given you some sassy remark about the length of it. _Everyone_ had something to say about it. You at least expected the usual surprised look...the taken aback look. The _‘woah, well don’t_ you _think_ you’re _important with that fancy pants name’_ look. But he didn’t. 

Instead he had simply closed his eyes and breathed, until one side of his mouth curled the tiniest amount, and the brow above it pulled down just as slightly. You’d seen him do this once before, to a song too old for you to be familiar with, played late by the band at the tourney grounds. The sound of it had drifted into your tent, and he had hummed it while he believed you to be sleeping. 

He opened his eyes and smiled at you. His expression both happy and sad. 

“Are you going to tell me about your childhood?” you asked him, not having realized that that’s what you had been about to ask. You wanted to know him. All of him. You wanted to love him for it so he could never tell himself he wasn’t enough. 

He closed his eyes.

When he opened them they flickered to where the two of your supplies sat.

“You can show me how to properly render the bloom of a Damiana tomorrow, Dettlaff,” you smiled, only slightly chiding, and cupped the large, prominent features of his handsome face with your hand until he returned his gaze to you. 

He nodded, then gently spun you back around so that you were facing away from him, then his imposing hands were in your lap with his sketchbook and charcoal. You cocked your head.

“It will help me get through it,” he stated blankly next to your temple above your ear, where his large jaw gently caressed you. You heard his breath falter. “I am unsure of where to begin.”

“Begin from where you remember,” you offered, then weren’t certain if that was helpful or not. “Or whatever you _can_ remember.” His forearm was in your hand without you remembering grabbing it, and you stroked it reassuringly. “I won’t stop loving you, either.”

You felt him nod his head, and he kissed you. Before he put the piece of charcoal to the paper and began.

“Before Nazair there are only glimpses,” he sighed, “memories like portraits left in my mind,” his hand drew the first strokes of something round, then he scratched it off and began making something new, “Mostly they are images of my mother, whom I loved...or thought that I had loved. I had an older brother, but I believe him to be dead. I do not remember why. It is a feeling. He was there, in my presence for a time, before Nazair, but the memory of his existence is fuzzy. I believe his death most likely has something to do with my mother, now. But I only have just started to feel this way.” Dettlaff swallowed, and the hand that wasn’t drawing wrapped itself around your middle. He bent at the knees - causing yours to do the same atop his - and rested the sketchbook on your thighs. 

“My first clear memory was in Nazair on the day my mother abandoned me,” his chest started pushing up against your back, “though I did not know I was in Nazair at the time, and I did know that she was leaving me.” His breathing deepened, and it seemed to you that he was trying to keep control over it, so you breathed deeply with him. Then he went quiet and still.

“Dettlaff?” you creaked, after a short time. He cleared his throat, and his breathing began again. 

“I remember the sun was very high in the sky, and she was very pregnant. She told me she was going to get me a gift,” he swallowed, “and that I should stay and wait, so as she left, that’s what I did.”

You felt your chest tighten, and you bit your lip. His hand was drawing something unintelligible to you. 

“It was dark before panic overtook me and I left my post to begin searching for her. I walked through a new and peculiar countryside and found myself in the streets of a strange and disagreeing city,” he dragged the charcoal over the parchment in a cutting line, “asking strange vampires whom I later found out were human if they’d seen her,” he exhaled, and his body tightened along with the sound of his voice, “but it is very difficult to describe the subtle qualities that make a being’s face their own,” he swallowed, rounding out another line on the parchment, “and I was very young, and didn’t know how to illustrate such things.” He sniffed, contemptuously.

“I recall on one occasion I described her as ‘nice’, ‘friendly’ - other times my descriptions were mere sobs, and once I simply began screaming at the confused face of a man who couldn’t help me, though we both desperately wished it to be otherwise. Eventually I stole a roll of parchment, a quill and an inkwell from a street artist and out of desperation, started to draw her,” the next stroke he pulled against the parchment was intentional and brash, “until finally I had something that resembled her, which took days if not weeks, and I began to ask people if they’d seen her using the crude portrait, hoping the time spent making it was not wasted and in vain. Not one of the many faces recognized hers. It rains in Nazair and my pockets were small and eventually the fabric of them torn and tattered. The portrait was ruined. I stole more and made more until the inkwell ran dry. I do not use quills or ink, anymore. A human man found me, and tried to foster me, but I killed him one night. It was an accident, and I hadn’t known how fragile humans were,” he stiffened, “I regret it deeply, even though I believe his taking me in had malicious intent. My memories become more incomplete around that time, and sometimes I wonder if the man was real. Sometimes I believe that I do not know what I want or how I feel, and it reminds me very much of how I cannot be certain if this man was a real part of my life.” He stopped. “It was years later that I stopped searching for my mother. ”

He inhaled and you felt his face rest against the back of your head, his hot breath washing over it. When he spoke into it, his voice was creaky and sounded as if it were still half in his chest.

“At some point I realized she had abandoned me, but it took me much longer afterwards to admit to myself that she did not want to be found.”

Dettlaff let the half completed drawing of a woman you didn’t know fall from your lap as his arms went slack and he began crying into your back.

“I think perhaps,” he inhaled gruffly, voice buried in your back and in his own throat, “that I am done with explanations for the day as well.” 

You pushed yourself up slightly and turned yourself around atop him, this time without the aid of his arms. His eyes were shut tight, blood streaking his chin in several places where he bit it, and you brought his face into your breast and held him there. 

“Please never leave without saying goodbye,” he whispered into you, “I know what my being a vampire might lead you to believe, but I would not make you sta-”

“Dettlaff,” you cooed, a pain in your heart that cut you, your face contorting hideously, “honey I will never leave without saying anything. And if I can help it I will ”

“never leave.” Dettlaff finished the words you had spoken to him once before, and you were surprised that he had remembered them. You dug your face further into his mass of handsome black locks and kissed it. 

“I think I am different,” he murmured into you, “I think that is why she left me.”

“Difference is what makes each of us who we are,” you told him, “we’re all dealing with it, it seems.”

He inhaled sharply and you were relieved when it came back out in a bark of laughter. 

“I suppose we are,” he agreed, himself sniffling. 

“What did you see of her in Krael’ef?” your voice came out strained. You pulled your head away and, feeling your face tense in worry looking at him, thumbed the blood streaks from his chin. His hand went to yours before you could remove it from his face. Gently, he guided your thumb to his parted lips and past his fangs, his tongue tenderly pushed it to the roof of his mouth, licking the blood off of it before letting you reclaim it. 

You smiled at each other. Then his Adam's apple dipped.

“I saw her in an unfamiliar place, first. Then last night I saw her holding me as a baby, looking as if she wanted to devour me. She spoke an odd name to me, called me it along with my own. I think it was a title or role of some sort, but I had never heard it before,” his broad chest expanded, “I thought perhaps I’d ask Regis if he knew what it meant. The word, or name.”

“What was it?” you asked, knowing full well you’d have no idea. 

“Ah-Auhl,” he shrugged, “I’m not certain of it’s spelling.”

You brought him back to your breast and held him for a long time, until finally his energy had found peace. Then, you took a deep breath and considered the sun and afterwards the tools for updating Regis’ journal of plants and alchemy ingredients. You kissed Dettlaff on his handsome face where his hairline met his forehead and asked, nodding to the phlebolith, “Want to get this over with?”

Dettlaff grinned. 

-

“I hate this,” you threw down the piece of charcoal and pouted, looking around the courtyard. “Haven’t we been doing this long enough?”

“It’s been no more than an hour, Maina.”

“An hour of torture!”

Dettlaff rolled his large head over lazily in your lap and squinted at you, then nodded to the seat of the chair you were presently using as a desk, “let me see.”

When you squinted back at him, he smiled devilishly. You tried to keep your face stern, but were failing. 

“ _Me-_ nah,” he used the actual pronunciation of your name in that deep, annoyingly beautiful sing-songy voice and your heart stopped. “Let me see the _torture_.”

“Okay,” you replied dumbly and handed him the sketchbook. His jaw hugged his neck as he peered down at your progress. You rolled your eyes at the fact that if you were laying on your back looking down at something in the way he was, you’d have a double chin and appear utterly ridiculous. Somehow he just made it so that the Adam's Apple and muscles of his neck looked like they could convincingly kill a guy all on their own. You coughed, clearing your throat and trying to calm your arousal. You felt Dettlaff’s energy spike because of it, but to his credit he just smiled crookedly and let one of his eyebrows twitch. 

“These are very good,” he said happily, looking up at you, “hand me the florilegium and the adhesive and I will begin pasting them as you continue.”

You frowned at him. 

“I am comfortable,” Dettlaff offered as an explanation for not getting them himself, and nuzzled your thigh. You smiled.

“That’s not what I mean,” your smile faded, and pointed at the sketchbook, “ _those_ aren’t any good. _Especially_ the mandrake root. It looks like a...like a rat or something. Like a rat baby.”

“A rat baby?” Dettlaff clarified.

“Yes,” you huffed.

Dettlaff rolled his eyes, then flipped pages to the mandrake root and chortled so thoroughly he almost sat himself up. 

“So it has some,” he stifled indignant noises, “it _certainly_ has some flare.” 

You pouted. 

“That is just one, Maina,” his hand went to your cheek, “Regis will enjoy it.”

“Mandrake root is important to get right, though, for Regis. I can’t have it looking ridiculous.”

“Regis will adore it,” Dettlaff assured you, “even if he doesn’t say so outright.”

“Fine,” you sighed. “Paste away.”

The two of you spent possibly another hour together in the garden - you drawing, going off of Dettlaff’s sketches for reference mostly and falling in love with him all over again because of their quality - and Dettlaff patiently placing your creations in Regis’ journal. Every now and again he would close his eyes and simply rub his face on our lap. You were beginning to wonder when Regis, Dacreval, and Geralt were going to get back from running errands. 

“Wasn’t Regis going to teach us how to make coquilles st jacques?” you asked, thinking about how delicious scallops are and feeling hungry. Dettlaff bit his lip at your mispronunciation. 

“Do you know how to cook?” he asked, and you shook your head ‘no’. 

“Do you?” you asked him back and he scrunched up his face and shook his head ‘no’, too. You started to giggle and his brows started to turn up, his fangs showing in his smile before he started laughing, too. “Oh this should be fun.”

“For Regis especially,” Dettlaff barked and you laughed harder. You closed the sketchbook and Dettlaff started picking up the clippings from where he, of course, used his nails as if they were box cutters and perfectly carved out your sketches. 

“How is it you’re two hundred and seventy-six years old and don’t know how to cook?” you asked him, giving him a look. 

“I did for awhile,” Dettlaff admitted, taking his sketchbook from your grip and replacing it with his monstrous hand, “but that was quite some time ago, now.”

You raised your eyebrows as the two of you walked back to the house towards the living room, finding yourself skipping alongside his lengthy gait. He smiled down at you. 

“When is your birthday?” you asked. 

His smile and eyes turned sly, “What a very human question…”

“You’re the one whose kept track for two hundred and seventy-six years,” you chided, then stopped. “Oh, I’m sorry…”

“For what?” he asked politely, but you could see his sympathetic smile. 

“I didn’t think about the fact that you,” you hesitated. 

“That I don’t know the day of the year I was born?” he finished your sentence. 

You nodded, and shook your head, feeling like an utter ass.

“Dettlaff I’m so sorry,” you began, but he wrapped his arm around you and picked you up, nuzzling you. 

“It’s fine, Maina. I was born on Saovine,” he said simply.

Your eyes got wide and you snorted. 

“On _Samhain?_ Dettlaff, you _vampire!”_ he cocked his head at you and you let your body go limp in his arms.

“I see nothing vampiric about the holiday,” he replied confused, as he opened the door to the living room and you were surprised to see both Geralt and Dacreval lounging on the far side couch. The atmosphere of the room was utterly tranquil in the light of late afternoon. As soon as Dacreval saw, his small body began morphing and, before you knew it, was flapping over to the two of you. 

“He’s improving,” Dettlaff’s chest puffed up as Dacre clumsily landed in your outstretched hand. You kissed him and he squeaked at you. Dettlaff walked the three of you over to the couch across from the one where Geralt lounged lackadaisically. 

“Hey Geralt,” you greeted, adjusting yourself so that your head was resting on Dettlaff’s lap. Tiny little claws were making their way up your arm, then your neck, then before you knew it, Dacreval’s tiny, happy face was in your vision and he squeaked. 

“You got me, Val!” you laughed, utterly delighted.

“Hey Maina,” Geralt smiled at Val, “yeah. Think he’s getting real into peek-a-boo.”

“It’s all he’s been doing since we returned from the book,” Dettlaff said, smiling in and at the awe of his son.

“That and growing teeth,” you sighed, but then a tiny, little fuzzy head popped up into your vision a second time and squeaked. “You got me!” you repeated, and again, were utterly delighted. 

It was incredible how effectively persuasive Val was in convincing you that peek-a-boo was indeed the funnest game in the world. He rubbed his little head, which was actually getting slightly bigger, though it was hard to tell, against your mouth and you kissed him there. Then he started to climb up onto your face and tried to get comfortable. You were silently laughing and listening as Dettlaff shook his head gleefully and Geralt audibly slapped his face about the situation. 

“Dacre,” you started, and he squeaked again - his entire body moving as he did so, turning around on your cheek, and you could feel tears from laughter on the sides of your face. “Val...”

Dettlaff’s hand cupped next to your cheek, “Dacreval,” he said his name better than anyone else, you thought, “leave your mother’s face alone.”

He scooped him up. 

“Hey!” you pushed Dettlaff’s torso in protest, “No fair!”

But several lengthy, vampiric fingers were wrapping themselves around your shirt collar and suddenly you were perched back on Dettlaff’s lap with Dacreval fluttering between you and Dettlaff’s awestruck expression. You rested your head on his chest, and felt a small body land in your hair. You heard Dettlaff’s low voice rumble, “mi amen myntvan cov,” _I love you, my little cherished ones.’_

You closed your eyes and sighed, “Ak ni une ameno,” _and we love you too,’_ you kissed him, “thi baba vel,” _you worthy father.’_

“Jesus christ you two,” Geralt blurted, and you started laughing. 

Dettlaff gave him a chilling look, but when he saw that you’d seen it, went still and cleared his throat, blushing, “Felari thek, seles pra,” _I beg you, keep that a secret.’_

You fought with all your might to stop yourself from breaking down and melting into a pile of loose giggles on the floor, but you did. You didn’t even giggle once. You kept a cool smile and nodded at Dettlaff reassuringly and whispered, “Voto.” _vowed.’_

“That reminds me,” Geralt said, bringing himself up to lean on his elbows, “got you that thing you wanted...kinda would like to read it myself when you’re finished.” 

You perked up and he tossed a small, green leather book in your direction. Dettlaff snatched it easily from the air and looked at it, “A book on Nosferats?”

He eyed the spine more carefully and his eyebrows shot up. 

“A book on Nosferats authored by a vampire?” His eyes bounced from Dacreval in your hair, to your face, to Dacreval, back to your face and he bit his lip, handing you the book. His energy became excited, and warm, and a wave of ease washed over you by it. It felt like gratitude. Dettlaff was appreciating you, and intensely. His energy was verging on too hot again. “Mi salek entriak cies pevetnas.” _I am going to sleep forever, tonight, with this day._

You rolled your head on his chest, and felt Dacreval’s tiny body stir on top of your head. There was a part of you that wished just slightly that he would have picked a spot where you could see him. 

“Thanks, Geralt,” you eyed the book and smiled. 

“No problem,” the witcher replied, yawning, “Oh, and Regis is putting away ingredients in the kitchen. Fair warning, I think he’s trying to give you a language lesson before he gives _both_ of you some sort of cooking lesson.”

The three of you looked at each other. 

“Alright,” you replied, mouth widening as you caught Geralt’s yawn, and went to stand.

“ _BUT,”_ Geralt interrupted, sitting up and looking between you and Dettlaff. He took a breath, “Listen, I know this might seem like I’m overstepping, but I think you should maybe go talk to Regis, Dettlaff.” He ran his hand through his silvery white hair, “Father to father, kind of... thing. He’s...nervous. It’s not bad - he’s fine. I just think he needs it.” Geralt’s shoulders bounced at his closing statement.

Dettlaff looked at the witcher appraisingly, then gave a thoughtful nod. 

“I think I understand what you mean,” Dettlaff said, finally, “I reacted by fleeing to gather medicinal ingredients for Maina,” his arm squeezed you, “which was useful, but lonely and ultimately inefficacious in terms of calming nerves. I will go speak with him. Thank you for informing me.” 

Dettlaff gently took your waist, lifted you from his lap and set you down on the couch before he kissed you, “Mi une am, Maina.” 

You watched him as he stood and walked out of the room. His butt looking _incredible_ in his pants. When you turned back around, saw that Geralt was still looking at the door. 

He raised a brow, “See?” he smirked, “Growing on him.”

You rolled your eyes, and the two of you laid back on your respective couches and started reading before Geralt blurted out, “I’m sorry but was he saying your name funny?”

You sighed and began explaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm putting this here, in the end notes. Normally, if reading a book, y'all would be able to quick google search whether or not the thing spirals down a certain path, and since you can't, I'll just tell you! 
> 
> Dettlaff isn't gonna try to smooch Geralt. That would be almost predatory behavior (cause Geralt's obviously not interested) and Dettlaff doesn't have any feelings towards him. He loves Maina (& Regis). Dettlaff drew a pic of him. He's obviously a little sensitive/embarrassed about it so DO try to be gentle! He's not trying to get with Geralt, and it makes my heart swell to the point of exploding that Maina knows he once 'acknowledged he has nice skin' (pffffff) and that they are bonding over it! 
> 
> END SCENE  
> ~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> NOTE on the entire fic cause you lovelies deserve it!
> 
> These characters will be happy by the end of this story. The solutions have been worked out for a good bit of time now, and I know exactly where this thing is headed so I don't want y'all to worry that they are all going to die in a pile of Acern Ara's past or something, lmao.
> 
> Next chapter is Regis teaching Maina and Dettlaff how to make Coquilles Saint-Jacques so buckle up! One or both of the vamps is gonna help Maina with her Ailma usage so that's cuter than heck, too.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks for everything! You're all great!


	47. Fur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maina and Regis try to have a lesson in vampiric and fail unreservedly at it.
> 
> You thought you were getting dinner but guess what this fic is too horny for dinner so...  
> Listen, we all know this fic is ridiculous so let's just enjoy the ride.
> 
> NOTE: Next chapter is in Krael'ef and it is a dooozy so...buckle up! <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to stop myself from naming this chapter “Hehehe”. Hehehe.
> 
> Sorry that this took nearly four days to post, especially considering I just wrote this this afternoon, gosh. That felt weird, but some things happened and everyone take care of themselves.  
> I could dedicate this chapter to a fellow writer who told me yesterday or something that fur had a green light but I can't say with any certainty that they would want credit for this smut lmao.
> 
> CW's: monster sex, anthropomorphic bat penis, fur gripping, spur of the moment commitment request, being hot, dirty feet, slurps, and a responsible amount of semen.
> 
> I'm tired and hitting the hay so if anyone has commented/messaged I'll get back to ye tomorrow!!!! Enjoy and have a great weekend! Take care of yourself! You deserve it!

It was _so_ hot outside. You really had to give it up to Toussaint in terms of their summer season. You didn’t know why it seemed late afternoon was always when it was the hottest in this country. There was a layer of dirt caked onto your shins just from going into the stable and brushing down Mers - who was delighted to see you, and you him. Admittedly it wasn’t really the stable’s fault you’d been caked, you were just _burning up_ and your shins were sweaty. The entirety of your body was sweaty, and it was uncomfortable. You stared at the ceiling of the corner bungalow you sat in along the garden. A hot breeze was flowing through the spaces between your toes and now that you had kicked off your boots, felt absolutely _divine._

Yawning, you rolled over on the huge, scarlet, velvet throw pillow and stared at the vines on the entrance’s trellis. 

_Liman,_ you thought the vampiric word for entrance as your fingers grazed the pulpy pages of the textbook. _No cheating._ That one was easy, but it was much harder to recall anything having to do with gardens... even though that was the subject of only your third lesson with Regis. The vines of the trellis and the shrubs around it made you chuckle - you had been under the impression that gardening was a subject the older vampire had chosen at random… _Oh, how I had been mistaken._ You bit your lip and smiled. _Kletram._ Finally the word came to you. Trellis was _kletram._

You rolled over on the pillow again. 

_That’s probably going to really come in handy someday,_ you snorted, then yawned. Hugging the giant cushion, you immediately and again became charmed by the overpowering views of the rolling deep blue-green hills of Toussaint, the sky just beginning to pinch at the brightest spot of the horizon. It looked like it was making _no_ progress. 

“Just _do_ it, already,” you egged the sun, which was looming above the skyline coyly. 

_How much reassurance does Regis need?_

You scrunched up the silk blanket from your legs and tossed out the entrance archway. It was still so _hot_ here. 

_Was it this hot out when I first got here?_

Probing your memory and readjusting yourself on the velvet pillow, you frowned. The only thing that readily came to mind were memories of the bedsheets in Geralt’s loft and feeling too awkward about roaming around his house but too invasive to be altogether happy in the loft itself.

You rubbed your eyes with the knuckles of your hand and turned to the next page in your book on the vampiric language, not wanting to think about it. When you actually looked down at the page, though, you froze. On it were several drawings...drawings of true higher vampires in their varying bat forms. It showcased their anatomies. 

Their _entire_ anatomies...

“Hey.”

“HAhh!” you jumped at the sound of Geralt’s voice and slammed the book shut. “...Lo! He _llo_ ,” you replied, panting stupidly like you’d just lost a foot race. He was leaning against the entrance, smirking when you conversationally squeaked, “whats up?”

The witcher shrugged his shoulders. “Going back home for the night, Dacreval should be fine with that thing you take for sleeping,” he dug something out of his pocket and tossed it to you, “drink those, I guess.”

Your hand caught the two separate vials with an ease you were still trying to get used to. When you saw a _very_ familiar looking liquid inside one of them, you fell directly back onto the pillow, “Shit. I thought I’d get at _least_ another week or so before I’d have to start my diet of Fia again.” You grumbled,”just... _shit.”_

_Stuff tastes more and more like malt with each dose…_

Lifting up the parchment and graphite, you quickly started jotting, “...ask...Yen...about better….pregnancy...juice,” you tapped the graphite on the parchment at the last word. 

“First of all, that’s a draught,” Geralt said annoyingly, sitting down next to you, “second of all, what are you doing?” He grabbed the parchment, “what is this?”

“Notes,” you shrugged, “questions for Yen.”

He pursed his lips, cat eyes scanning the yellow paper, “here, let me write one.”

You gave him the piece of graphite. 

“How is she being, by the way?” he asked, lip twitching at trying to grip the graphite with his clunky gloves, before he ripped the glove off altogether.

“Evasive,” you sat up, feeling slippery and wet behind your bent knees. “How long does it stay summer here?”

“Compared to the north? Technically forever,” he nearly groaned.

“What are you huffing about?” you shook your head incredulously, “Mr. witcher pretending he doesn’t have a _fainting couch_ on his hill...”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He definitely did.

“Are you going to teach Dacreval vampiric?” he asked, eyeing your textbook.

“Only if I become fluent first,” you relaxed against the cushion again, “there’s no way I’m going to allow Val to sass me in a language I don’t fully understand.”

Geralt’s chuckle was raspy as he handed you the parchment and popped up off the cushion to a stand, comfortably, “well,” he nodded to you, the tiniest of half grins on his face, “see you tomorrow, Maina.”

“See ya, Geralt, and thanks,” halfway through yawning again, you sat up off the pillow, “Hey Geralt?”

“Yeah, _Meeena_?” he spun on his heel and crossed his arms, smiling infuriatingly. You scrunched your face up at him.

“Nipo,” you smiled. 

He raised an eyebrow. 

“Nipo,” you repeated, “it means nephew.”

A corner of Geralt’s mouth furled up and he folded his arms across his abdomen. 

“And Tosi is for uncle.”

He smirked.

“ _Inter_ esting,” he replied, slowly pivoting on his heel to leave and smiling to himself. As he walked away you heard him abruptly greet and bid farewell to Regis.

You listened to the older vampire’s footsteps as he approached until he was standing in the entrance of the tiny, square room. His eyes got wide and he smiled when he saw you, and suddenly you were being pulled up and held against his brown leather vest. 

“Regis!?” you giggled and suddenly felt much more awake. “Vea!” _Hello!’_

Hot air hit your shoulder as he sighed, and you could feel his heart beating through yours and his clothes where he held you. 

“I can’t begin to tell you how nervous I am,” he began, breathless. His chest broadened against your breast before his lips continued on your shoulder, “It’s rather incredible, actually,” he bayed, humorously, filling you with his herbal scent, “It seems my mind wants to explore every single way I could possibly make a mess of this.”

“You won’t make a mess of anything,” you cooed, closing your eyes and feeling your entire body light up in a tingling sensation from his closeness.

The older vampire started taking deep, slow breaths, and you felt him nod his head against you, “God, I _do_ feel better already,” his sideburn brushed up against your face, and you felt his hands run up and down your sides where they crossed, “If I would have known holding you was the solution to calming these nerves...”

You pulled your head away from the coarse hair of his sideburns and looked at him, firmly. “Regis,” you cupped his perfectly groomed face in your hands, and a dark gaze found yours. A gaze that was so warm, now. “You will be a great father. I promise you.” He nodded his head, and swallowed.

Regis set you down on the scarlet cushion and you positioned yourself so that you had the view. He sat up against the wall across from you and began thumbing through your textbook, still looking a bit timorous. His dark eyes wandering to you now and then in the short time it took for him to find the page, a smile on his mouth. 

“How are your, um,” you gave him an apologetic look, “cravings?”

Regis’ returned your apologetic look, “they certainly haven’t improved. They’re mostly episodic, as of a few days ago.”

You swallowed, “I’m sorry.”

His brows turned down severely, “Maina,” he pronounced your name correctly and your breath caught, “why ever would you apologize for my shortcomings? No,” he smiled, “I’d vastly prefer you take my thanks for dealing with them, instead.” 

You blinked.

“Of course,” you felt your brows pucker for your older mate, “Fuck, Regis,” you wiped a tear from your eyes, “where did that come from?” 

The surgeon-barber raised a brow, “You _are_ aware that were I not able to sense you’ve just relaxed, I would have had no idea what to make of your last statement, yes?” 

You rolled your eyes.

“Did Dettlaff tell you how to pronounce my name?” you felt your shoulders get tight.

Regis nodded and turned his attention back to the book.

“And about my last name?”

He stopped idly thumbing through pages and regarded you. It looked as if he had never entertained the fact that you would have a last name. He tossed the book to the side. 

“Evt?” _and?’_ Regis, asked, one of his eyes squinting at you in consideration.

“ _Evt_ It’s van der Eretein, now,” you told him. 

Regis nodded largely and slowly, before pinching his lip between his thumb and forefinger, then clasping his hands together. 

“You took his name?” he clarified as if he hadn’t heard it. 

“Yes,” you replied, cocking your head at him. You were completely unable to discern what kind of reaction he was having. Regis pursed his lips.

“And what was it before Dettlaff’s title?” he asked, clicking his tongue. The side of his _neck_ flexed.

“Um,” you began, “it was Mehaeth crail’Haleah Theley Thredale.”

“Oh _my_ .” The surgeon-barber’s browline shot up on his forehead and he smiled, “Then it shouldn’t be an issue adding Terzieff-Godefroy in front of _van der Eretein_ , now, should it?”

His long vampiric fingers grabbed the textbook and your mouth fell open.

“ _What?!”_ you snorted, “Maina Terzieff-Godefroy van der Eretein? Regis are you _serious?”_

You were starting to laugh, now. You were starting to laugh pretty hard until you saw Regis’ stare _._ He looked thoroughly unamused...and _that_ made you want to laugh harder. You bit your lip.

“It isn’t necessary you say it aloud _constantly,”_ he rolled his eyes then stated seriously, “but I want it.”

That made _your_ brows shoot up. Regis looked at you levelly.

“I want you to have my last name.”

You felt yourself smiling slyly without intending to. 

“Uh- _huh_ ,” you replied, and he looked back into the book.

“You already have one of our names. It wouldn’t make sense to not have mine as well. Besides, you love me,” he cleared his throat.

“Mmmhm,” you thought you could see the faintest bit of color on his cheeks.

“And dear, you _are_ mine too,” he added.

“Hm,” you grinned and when Regis looked up and saw that you were considering it, traces of joy began influencing the set of his mouth.

 _Here Yen thought_ Dettlaff _was going to be the one demanding legal claims._

“And if I marry one of you I suppose I’d have to marry the other too?” you asked, failing to conceal your amusement. 

Regis’ eyes got big. The smile vanished from his face completely and he stared at you, stiffly.

“Beg your pardon?” he asked and you blushed under the weight of his gaze.

“Never mind, it was nothing,” you looked away, and saw out of the corner of your eye that his chest began rising and falling in quick succession. His head twitched in disbelief.

“Would you?” He asked, and you peered up at him, embarrassed.

“Would I wha-”

“ _Will._ ” he shook his head, “I meant _will_ you?”

“Will I what?” 

Regis chest was _really_ going.

“Marry me?”

You blinked. The older vampire’s pupils were growing as they held you.

“Whah?” you managed, dumbly. 

“Will you marry me, Maina?” Regis proposed.

He was so sincere.

“ _Yes,_ ” you noticed you were beginning to nod your head quickly, “Yes I will, Regis.” 

The older vampire’s head followed your movements as he gazed at you, nodding, too.

“Yes?” he asked, his dark eyes dancing about your face - when you nodded again, he gracefully swept to his knees in front of you. 

“God, yes.” You closed an eye, smiling and he barked, revealing a line of sharp teeth. A tingling sensation was engulfing your entire body and you were starting to feel yourself tear up, “I didn’t think you were the type to want that,” you laughed as Regis started looking a little dreamily at you, his lips curling back.

Regis snaked an arm around you and held you to him, you felt his chest rise and fall against you...his scent again perforated your nostrils and filled you with a heady pleasure. You shifted, “Regis?”

“Yes, Maina?” he replied, and as he did, it felt like there was something stuck in your throat.

“There are some...um,” your mind wandered to the figures in the book on vampiric. How the masculine promise of safety, capability, and resources was visible to you in every monstrous figure. How it was driving your body insane from an evolutionary standpoint. How you’d gotten pretty used to lying to yourself about not wanting to fuck either Regis or Dettlaff in one of their forms...and how you weren’t sure if you gave a fuck anymore about it.

You felt Regis’ arm wrap tighter around you, and his lips brushed up against your temple, “Maina?”

“Um,” _tell him in vampiric,_ you thought, _would that be easier?_ “uh...Okay. So there are some figures in that book…”

Regis face pulled back from your temple and he raised his brow. Obviously realizing that you were aroused.

_That wasn’t helping._

“About higher vampires in their bat forms and I…”

Regis eyes became huge in surprise, and his jaw clenched. “You can’t be serious?”

“Please?” you asked. _Yeah, like that’s gonna work._

His nostrils flared and his chest was starting to get excited again. _That_ made you constrict in anticipation. 

“We can try.” He swallowed, looking down at your body and you shivered. “Though I don’t know if…” his nostrils flared, again. “We can try. Stay.”

With that, Regis quickly pulled away from you and walked out of the bungalow. You swallowed. Your breathing was coming and going quicker. _How is he letting us do this… holy shit. Holy shit._ You had been mostly expecting him to say no. 

You’d been absolutely expecting him to say no. You were _wet._

_“Fuck, fuck, fuck,”_ you repeated like a mantra and started undressing yourself clumsily as the situation settled on you, the faint sounds of Regis transforming audible from the adjacent bungalow, and you turned to look at the wall it was coming from like _that_ would do anything. _“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”_

You’d just finished tossing all of your clothes to the corner of the room when heavy footsteps reached the threshold and you looked up to see Regis’ imposing body in the entryway. He was more muscular than you remembered. HIs head was more imposing. He was wrapped up in his wings. 

He was much, much, _much,_ bigger than you remembered him being. 

You stood up straight as he entered the bungalow and you stared at him. He stared back. His large eyes dancing over your naked body and filling you with excitement - as it did, you saw his chest expand, _smelling_ you. 

You walked over to him and placed your hand onto one of his wings and slowly pulled it towards you, unwrapping it from his body and as you did, peered down. Regis furry, dark brown body shifted uncomfortably until he realized your reaction to seeing his arousal. He was...certainly not human. 

“Maina,” you heard the faint sound of something that resembled Regis voice, and something that felt very much like a huge, leathery claw against the small of your back and a heavy curtain of flesh drape your ass as you knelt before him. You ran your hands up the back of his coarsely covered legs until you reached something that felt very familiar to a human backside. You swallowed, and stared at the pinkish, red erection in front of you that was at least an entire foot long. The _girth_ of it made you squeeze internally and you cupped Regis’ ass with one hand, pulled him in, and licked the length of it. 

“ _Mai_ na,” Regis moaned lowly, and you peered up at his monstrous, bat-like face that was staring down at you. You gripped the length of his cock with your other hand, not able to wrap your fingers fully around it mid-shaft where it billowed out. You felt your body quake again, and you licked the length of it once more, rolling your wrist and massaging the deep red, flowery head of it. There was something spinuous about it under the skin of his shaft that you noticed contracting and expanding as you did so. 

“Fuck, Regis,” you were getting more than excited as you sucked on the tip of his head and moaned, “ _fuck,”_ you released him with a _pop_ of your mouth from the suction and his hips shuddered, the odd, spiny bumps moving gently against your hand that was working to excite him.

You brought your mouth in to him again and breathed on him, then took the entirety of his head into your mouth and felt Regis tremble. His head was odd feeling, and bulbous, and had weird grooves where you weren’t expecting as you tongued him. It was soft and smelled incredible. You fit as much as you could into your mouth before your jaw and the girth of his head forbade you from continuing, and it wasn’t very much at all. You peered up at him and were only barely able to make out in his unbelievably dark eyes that they were rolling. You let your hand go between his legs and your eyes rolled at the feeling of two, very sizable, heavy objects. _Fuck._

Another _popping_ sound of you releasing his cock’s bright red head, and another low, inhuman moan filled the air before Regis looked down at you. He opened his mouth and out of it, a tongue began to slither, but before you could see it all unfurl he lowered himself and you were being flipped by the ass onto your back by long claws, and a monstrous face was between your legs. You ran your hand through the dark brown fur of his back, “Regis,” you beckoned, and the returning call of a number of strange succeeding clicks echoed in the air. You watched as the large vampire bat-looking face stared at you, it’s nostrils flaring. Regis dug deeper between your legs and you felt a soft, wet, bumpy tongue run over your clitoris and spread your lips entirely before the tip of it entered you and you gasped. _“Regis,”_ you moaned as the small, firm end of the ribbed tongue rubbed up against your front wall, going deeper, and deeper- the part of his tongue that filled you becoming thicker, and thicker, - then coming back. The robust, fleshy, ribbed base of his tongue rubbing the outside of you on your clitoris in a circular fashion. It was like clockwork… _”oh my god,”_ you started to beg, “don’t stop, REgis,” you grasped at his fur more tightly, and Regis released more clicking noises into you and you felt the entirety of their vibration and heard a low voice from some depth of him humm your name as his tongue worked on you, in you, and you spasmed. _“Re_ gis,” the last part of his name came out high and pitchy and odd as your insides squeezed and quaked against his _tongue_. You could see his body begin to gyrate out of excitement, leathery wings were furrowing, and Regis bellowed your name, vibrating through you again and again as his long, tongue excited you to the point that you couldn’t take it and an intense orgasm took you. You felt fistfulls of his fur in your hands as you gripped onto his giant musculature. You started screaming for him and leathery wings caressed you until finally your vision came back to you or you opened your eyes. You tried to catch your breath. Regis was quaking in excitement and your insides twitched as his tongue slithered its way out of you with a slurping noise.

  
  


“Do you want to fuck me, Regis?” you asked, pulling the imposing, bat-like face of your lover closer to you and you started to kiss the side of his snout, then the front of it where it blunted and turned up like a leaf. “You can speak,” you whispered to him. 

His broad, furry chest was pushing up against you as he answered, “yes,” and you realized how very much it _did,_ to you, sound like Regis. He let his long, wet tongue slither down your sternum and you felt him grab one of your tits with it, and tug it, playfully as he looked into your eyes and you took his face into your hands, kissing it. 

Then you felt the novel head of a massive cock at your opening. Regis’ tongue let go of your tit and you cooed before he brought his massive body to an erect position where he knelt before you. He was so muscled it was incredible...your eyes followed his broad chest where his fur thinned to reveal his dark skin, down to _the_ point and swallowed. You felt a wave of excitement crash over you again and you begged, “Please,” you saw Regis’ chest expand quickly. Two black eyes watching you, he slowly pushed the buddy head of his cock past your labias slowly. You clutched at it internally before he was even fully in you - then he began filling you with it. The great, bat-like body let out a low, unsteady and untame noise, as his head pushed into your pussy and his girth made the walls of you feel tight and you quaked completely, releasing a wild sound of your own, wanting him. It kept going, and your legs jerked not knowing if you were going to be able to take the entirety of his cock and suddenly it hurt. You whimpered, and the noise sounded worse than you meant it to. You saw the fur rise on Regis shoulders as he pulled himself back but you squeezed your legs around his thick middle to the best of your ability and held his wing, “ _Plea-ase_ ,” you pleaded, cupping your hand to his face.

“Ar--” Regis’ monstrous reply rumbled as he tried to speak through the pleasure, “y-you certa-ain?” you tried to affirm it but your eyes rolled at the sound of his voice in this form, the feeling of him inside of you driving you crazy and you squeezed his head, deep inside of you and shuddered. “Eug _h_ ,” he rumbled, his giant body shivered as you moaned, he put his forehead against yours and you constricted around him again. “ _Pl_ ease,” you yapped, causing Regis to purr low and loudly in excitement. “M _aina”_ he quaked, trembling, rubbing his snout into your neck. " _Ke-ep,”_ you tried to catch your breath, but rolled your hips on him again and the feeling of him was _so much_ . Regis’ large, fur covered body shivered again as his low, new voice asked, “ _Ye-ah-es?”_ and the heat of his breath enveloped you. You wrapped your arms around Regis’ neck and gripped him tightly as his strange, spinous cocked gyrated inside you causing you to moan pitchily, _“Fuck,”_ you rolled your hips with him, _“Regi-is, k-eep”_ you moaned again, _“spe-eaking.”_

Regis’ snout rubbed up against you with closed eyes, and he bucked, making you whimper. He drew his long, monstrous cock from and shuddered before he slowly and cautiously filled you again with it, causing your eyes to roll. _“I-ah, l_ o _ve_ yo _u,”_ Regis monstrous voice bellowed lustfully, cloaked in the unsteadiness of pleasure and your head fell back moaning, and Regis supported it with his claws as he licked your face and a new wave of clicking and purring emitted from him, making him _vibrate._ _“Fuck, ReGIS,”_ you squealed and he thrust into you nearly fully and you gasped at the pain, then pleasure of it. You kissed his snout as his wings wrapped around you and he thrust again, making you yap, _“Fuck,”_ Regis’ low voice was starting to shake as he began losing control. The leathery flesh of his wings were moving against your back and your ass wildly as he gyrated his hips, digging his cock into you. His head lulled back to reveal his giant fangs as he panted, “ _Ma_ ina.” A high pitched noise cut through the air as he rolled his hips, “ _Fu-uck me, Regis,”_ you squealed, pleading, feeling high, and suddenly he was peaking. His long cock slid out of you completely before he easily bucked back in, making you scream for him. Regis was beside himself as he held you against him, pushing his snout against you and digging his fatty head in further until it was painful. _“Ma-aina,”_ he rumbled, and his voice was so incredible that you felt yourself beginning to come again. Regis’ leather wings held you so tightly against him as he thrust one last time, his cock filled you completely and, shaking, he began to shoot his seed into you. You felt Regis’ cum ooze out of you as his long, trembling cock gave you more of it. His broad, firm chest was covered with sweat and it quaked against you.

Wrapped up in your arms tightly was his impressive, bat-like head, and you kissed him everywhere on it, squeezing his torso with your legs as you did so. Regis let out a low, joyful chuckle and he slowly pulled himself from you, before going limp and reclining with his back against the wall, holding you to him. He wrapped his wings around you so that you were more than warm and comfortable. Then, he started nipping you gently with the side of his fangs and rubbing his scent glands on your skin. 

You laid dreamily on his massive, welcoming body as it lulled you lazily, feeling the result of his orgasm seep out of you on top of his body. You shifted your legs to try to stop it.

“Don’t worry yourself with it,” Regis’ low voice carried through the air like the gift of a songbird, and your heart skipped that it was confident and relaxed. You looked at him, then, and saw in his gentle, dark eyes something you loved very much. The incredible warmth you felt being wrapped up in his embrace like this was nearly bringing you to tears. On his abdomen, you curled up on your side and nuzzled your face under his chin. Your still fairly dirty toes kneaded the muscles of his stomach and it made him hum. The low, very Regis-esque voice of Regis sounded like music to you, when you heard him quietly say, “I love you, Maina.” 

“I love you too,” you replied. 

“I think we’re late for our own dinner,” you stated, realizing that it was now dark outside. 

“Dettlaff is leaving to get more ingredients soon, anyway,” he rumbled. 

You pouted _hugely_ , feeling your heart drop. “Oh.”

Regis rubbed your face with his snout, “I believe he’ll be back before morning.”

The lulling of his body was so comforting, and you felt your lids becoming heavy. Wrapped up in the warm, loving embrace of Regis, you drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This had been stuck in my head before I wrote this chapter and I think I partly blame it
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hl8JLyhgZRE


	48. Art [NSFW] Both Bat Regis x Maina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Added other Bat!Regis piece to this chapter it’s at the end. :)
> 
> Ummmmmmmm :D How furry do y'all like 'em?
> 
> It's funny thinking that Maina probably hasn't realized just how much of that [x] Regis didn't [x] in her :p. What restraint that good bat boy has.
> 
> I had started a different one first where you actually see, um, the business downstairs. Might finish it, might not. Certainly do like drawing Bat Regis. You can probably thank my sickness or a song I was listening to for my putting them in an ethereal wheat field or whatever the hell that's supposed to be.
> 
>   
> Alright,  
> Enjoy, y'all!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: illustrations of nudity and sex with a large, anthropomorphic bat. 
> 
> Resolution got a little bonked in the process of uploading them.
> 
> Edit to say: 
> 
> https://66.media.tumblr.com/540cd2153bc93f63b1e457eb04590a76/tumblr_oiiqxphPjV1u8mcj6o1_500.gifv
> 
> nums


	49. The Fam Pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maina finds out what happens on the night of Amilie's death and learns that she might potentially kick so much ass, and has an...upsetting time getting stuck in Krael'ef.
> 
> Next: The crew and Yennefer brainstorm and come to a conclusion so unsettling that it calls them all to immediate action. 
> 
> DO NOT MESS WITH THIS FAM.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all! This was going to be one chapter but it's super long, haha. This wraps this arc! Dett mama git GONE!
> 
> Be prepared to solve this fic's mysteries with Maina, Dettlaff, Regis, Dacre, Geralt, and even Yennefer in this and next chapter. I've been nervous about this entire arc but I think this actually turned out to be really fun. Dude...Geralt.
> 
> I'm just gonna post Pt.2 along with this in a few hours. I hope you all have a really fun time reading these ones. Maybe they're a shit storm of confusion, idk. I don't care. After this everyone is banging and fluffing out. We'll probably only have witcher contracts, emotional healing, babies and sex for awhile after this.
> 
> Probably a lot of editing errors in this cause in total this honker is like 21 pages and I am so damn sick right now lmao. I really hope this isn't a fever dream. 
> 
> CW's: death of non-major characters
> 
> Oh, and if I haven't replied to any comments it's cause I was sick, sleeping, or writing this to make myself feeeeeel better but I'll hop to 'em in a moment!
> 
> Enjoy and thanks, y'all!!

You were standing, again, in the fountain square of the eerily empty Krael’ef. The sun was still midday, and you decidedly really didn’t like that. It was creepy. You wanted there to be shadows, and you were generally a person who didn’t judge a lack of them. _Maybe there’s time to try to leave and come back with them,_ you thought...for the one hundredth time.

Nearly the entire day had been spent in the courtyard with Regis and Dettlaff, trying to figure out how to pull in enough Ailma to be ‘filled with it’ in order to enter this place without the cat figurine. You knew it was a little optimistic to think you’d do it perfectly on your first try, but there was no way in hell you were going to sit around and watch Yennefer _scoff_ at you for having to enter in your sleep. 

Dettlaff’s eyes nearly rolled out of his skull when you told him about Regis proposing, and you had to admit it made you laugh a little bit, too. Your younger, dark haired vampire was less than enthusiastic about the prospect of marriage, it turned out. Said it was an absurd human holiday...you just thought he was worried about the size of the guest list, and the fear of ever being made the center of attention for something like that. When you expressed this to him, he made you promise to never bring up to Regis the idea of the three of you getting married to _each other_ , because he’d never hear the end of it. 

It was really, really, _really_ tempting to break that promise.

You’d just resolved to fill yourself with Ailma and try to relax enough to get back, use the cat figurine, and bring Regis and Dettlaff here with you when you heard the sound of a portal opening. _God damn it._ You sat back down and dug the note you’d written out of your armor’s leather strapped pocket. 

Feeling incredibly _sore_ as you did.

“Maina,” Yennefer’s voice was surprised and the sound of heels approaching on the cobblestone were nearly deafening in the silence of Krael’ef. You looked up from the note and decided to pocket it, for now. Your brows knit.

She was smiling. 

“Give this to Regis, it’ll keep you safe using Ailma when you start to show,” she stretched out her hand and from it you took what looked to be a recipe with _literally_ Regis’ name on it.

“Thanks,” you nodded, half surprised at her diligence, and pocketed it.

“I see you’ve come to your senses and decided to have proper lessons _sans distraction,”_ she smirked, pitching her head and slightly rolling her eyes. You almost chuckled.

“Not really,” you shrugged, putting your hand over your brow for cover from the loud sunlight, the white stripes of Yennefer’s ribbon glaring against the black of her blouse. “I had trouble bringing them in without using the cat figurine.” 

Yennefer nodded as if he had figured as much, then stopped, her head turning to the side while maintaining eye contact. She drew herself up and crossed her arms - one hand playing with her jaw. She looked almost _angry._

“I’m sorry, did you say with _out_ the cat figurine?” Her eyes squinted, “As in, you brought yourself in here on your _own?”_

You swallowed and nodded, “is that bad?”

She looked at you for a second longer, then shook her head.

“Maina I told you to use it and try to _relax_ your way in,” she sighed and looked to the ground, “and...no. It isn’t _bad,_ necessarily. It means this training is certainly going to go more smoothly than I’d imagined, but you should be using its aid until you are more capable of handling this magic.” 

She dug something out of her pocket and your mouth fell open. 

“You have _another?”_ you asked, amazed. 

“Don’t be a child and take the flower, Maina,” Yennefer snapped. 

“Gah, alright,” you took the small orchid carving and she gave you a tight smile.

“I can’t fathom how you were able to pull that off already,” she shook her head, then frowned in contemplation. You were considering _sitting_ again by the time she flipped her hair out of the way and asked, “Have you received my letter?”

“No,” you replied, smirking to yourself about being right on the name and letter front. 

She’d started pacing, “well, there is a letter accompanying some rather important papers en route to you, so _do_ be aware.” 

You nodded, waiting for her to explain, but she just kept pacing, gracefully. 

“And?” you asked, “What are they?”

Yennefer stopped on her heel and appraised you, thoughtfully, before nodding. 

“Right,” she began, “To begin, I’ve uncovered vital information on what it means to be a Door. A _living_ one, at least. A Tsudmi. I’d have found it sooner, but it was misplaced under a miserable pile of babbling Wozgor mythology, _naturally_.”

You gathered that this was a common occurrence. 

“As it would turn out, Doors are supposedly much more significant to this place than I’d previously considered...”

“So what does that mean about me?” you asked pointedly, wishing that she’d stop pacing and just look at you. Finally she stopped and _did_ look at you- beginning at your feet until her eyes made her way up to yours. Then she crossed her arms and stroked the feminine curve of her jaw once more. 

“Come,” she said, and began walking north out of the fountain square. You fell in step behind her. “There is a Dauk myth that after the creation of Krael’ef, its Doors were born. According to it, there were many pseudo-doors born, as well, and still many are to this day, but this does not concern you.”

You nodded, looking up and around sunny, empty Beauclair as she led the two of you down the sloping street to an establishment nestled partway under the road above it. The sign read “The Adder and Jewel’s Winery”. You followed her as she approached one of the many tables of the veranda and sat. So you sat, too.

“Five Doors were born in total,” she began removing the glove of her right hand finger by finger, “and not all of them born of or belonging to this world, I’m sure.”

You felt your brows pull downwards. _Five?_

“They all apparently played an integral role in maintaining and guarding Krael’ef, and are all intrinsically a part of this place between places. Which is really rather poetic, as Krael’ef in and of itself is a Door to other worlds.”

She spared you a glance, setting down her glove and began gracefully removing the other finger by finger. 

“What _exactly_ they were supposed to be executing has been lost,” her brows raised, and she shook her head slightly in what you thought was a mild disdain, “ _but_ I was able to resurrect the knowledge of their individual characteristics.”

She eyed you again, and this time they stayed on you.

“The First Door to be born was able to shift the air and matter of Krael’ef. I extrapolate they were referring to using Ailma.

“The Second to move themselves. _Transport_ themselves through this world of dreams, memories, and possibilities.

“The Third could transform themselves into whatever shape they please.

“The Fourth could do the first and second but not the third.”

Yennefer nodded her head back and forth and waved her hand along to the syllables as she listed off the prior. She drew in breath then shook her head as if this were ridiculous Dauk business per usual. Or mythological business per usual. Or _Krael’ef_ business per usual. There was no way of knowing how you should react to it, because you had no idea of whether or not it _was_ business per usual or why she was exhausted by it.

You noticed that she was looking at you, now, and it immediately snapped you out of your thoughts.

“And then there’s the Fifth, who could do all before it but change themselves, and they could shift Krael’ef itself into any shape that they pleased, or they could destroy it. They are prophesied _to_ destroy it, but evidently that is still very much _yet to happen.”_

“Okay,” you started moving your body again, feeling like it had gone a little frozen. Something was bothering you about all of this and now that she finally was finished… “Yen, if there were or are only Five doors, then _how am I a door?”_

Honestly, Yennefer really could not remember how much other people did not know. It drove you crazy. To your surprise though, she gave you an “ah, but yes” sort of expression and placed her other glove on the table. At this point it felt like she was half _mocking_ every notion.

“It is supposed to be that the Five Doors never die,” Yennefer swept her hand over the top of the table then placed her elbows on it, looking off towards the view of Toussaint and rubbing her wrist with an open, upturned hand. That surprised you to see. “They never die and thus are reincarnated in the bodies of others to do their work for them, _with_ them, whichever.”

“What?” 

She pitched her fingers and turned her two pointers to you, “you are a Door, which means you are a reincarnation of one of The Five. _Which_ of The Five is yet to be seen.”

You felt your face and entire rest of your body get warm. 

“But you made it sound like you didn’t believe this stuff...” you started.

“Apparently the Third Door was a particularly brutal man and still to this day drive’s out the minds of the body he is reincarnated in by making the host go insane,” she raised her eyebrows, “which is why today I’d like very much to rule that possibility out by seeing if you can transport yourself in case they were wrong about the Third not being able to move Ailma. _Or_ we'll have to take action against your body being inhabited by an lunatic who wants to tend this world like a garden…”

“Yennefer...” you started.

“But then again we could see if you _could_ change your body and appearance here, though it would be futile to _test that_ more than a…”

 _“Please.”_ You smacked your hands on the table and Yennefer jumped in her seat. Eyes going wide in anger before they softened and you continued, “just _give_ me a moment, Yen.”

You held your head with your hand for a good long time before you finally looked at her, “you’re telling me that I’m an old dead guy?”

Yennefer’s mouth turned downwards in a manner that made it look like she was trying very hard to not laugh at you, but she looked _very_ sympathetic. “No, Maina,” she shook her head, “that’s only one possibility. If you _are_ the Third reincarnate, we’ll do our best to…” she pursed her lips.

“Stop me from losing my mind?” you finished. 

You felt like you were going to cry. 

“Don’t be so distraught, Maina,” Yen placed a hand on your forearm, but her voice was much firmer, and you decided that if you didn’t try to keep it together, that you would receive a lecture _post haste._ “It _is_ important to consider that Artorius Vigo or other...beings may be using Krael’ef to their advantage and are seeking out the current Doors to destroy or detain the Fifth.”

You looked at her, your brain really not having a great time trying to concentrate on anything other than the possibility of you losing your mind to an old dead man. 

“And _why’s that_ ?” you asked, void of emotion and snarkily...being the _biggest_ pile of sass you’d possibly ever been.

Yen’s brows turned down at your inability to see the answer. 

“Why, to stop the Fifth from _destroying_ Krael’ef altogether,” she shook her head at you, but then realized that you were simply overwhelmed. You watched as she inhaled and looked out onto Toussaint, obviously trying _very_ hard to be patient of your emotions. 

_Who gives a shit about that?_

“What about the other four? The other four doors? What if I’m the second or fourth? Will I lose my mind, then?” you asked. 

“No,” she was still staring at Toussaint, “no, they all were apparently very passive and loving.” 

“Did they have names?” you asked. 

“Yes,” she replied, “I’d imagine.”

You nodded feeling a little better, “I’m going to go puke,” you stood, looking around the empty square, “then I’m ready to try to...do what’s needed.”

-

There was no way in the seventh circle of fucking _hell_ you hadn’t popped at least ten blood vessels trying to get yourself to _jump_ through time or space here. Yennefer had no basis to go off of what or _how_ this maneuver worked, but _insisted_ on being the teacher because of _course_ she did. This resulted in the two of you arguing a _lot._ Well, no, that wasn’t accurate. It resulted in Yennefer being harsh and you taking it silently until every twenty minutes or so you lost your temper at her and the cycle repeated. 

You really, _really_ could not express how lovely it was remembering that Dettlaff and Regis were asleep in _your_ bed while all of this was happening.

That sounded really dramatic considering you were _only_ trying to make it from the bench of the courtyard to the fountain, with _zero_ luck. You were just landing on your feet after jumping out your frustration and getting back in your “about to sprint for dear life” stance when the most horrible sound you’d ever heard in that moment rang through the air...

“Are you _imagining_ your des-”

“ _YES!”_ You threw up your hands at her, sweating profusely, your face soaked, “ _I AM IMAGINING THE DEST-”_ you threw your hands to the left side, “ _TI-”_ to the right, _NAY-SHUN,”_ then forward ahead of you. Yen lifted her curled fist to her mouth, eyes going wide for a moment then blinking where she stood on the edge of the courtyard as you continued.

“I am _imagining the destination, okay?!?”_ you started pacing. _“_ How can I _not_ imagine the destination?! It’s all I’ve been staring at for the past _three and a half hours!”_ You turned around in a circle like a dog trying to find their seat and stared at her.

“I _get_ in the _stance...just like you tell me to do,”_ you got in the stance. 

“I fill myself with _Ailma - just like you tell me to do,”_ you filled yourself with Ailma.

“I imagine _being_ at the _destination -_ _just like you tell me to do,”_ you imagined the fountain.

“Then I think of taking a _step forward - just like you tell me to,”_ you closed your eyes and imagined taking a step forward. 

“Then I…” you opened your eyes, and you were standing at the fountain. You turned to Yennefer and saw that she was smilingand nodding at you. “I did it!”

You looked at your hands, and the fountain, and then back to Yennefer, who was walking towards you. 

“I _did It!”_ you yelled, punching the air, then grasping your elbow because that hurt.

Your chest was rising and falling quickly, and you looked around to see where else you wanted to go. You turned to Yennefer and felt yourself smirk. Her eyes got wide. 

“Maina, _no._ Do _not_ try that yet…”

You let your body fall into a sprinting stance and, closing your eyes, imagined the edge of the courtyard. Yennefer’s voice was suddenly much louder. You opened your eyes and looked down at her. 

“Holy shit,” you looked down at your hands, then to Yennefer. “So I’m not going to go insane, right?”

“Do _not_ take these things lightly, Maina,” Yennefer brushed the apparent residual _whatever_ off her black satin pants. Then she looked at you and smiled, “but congratulations. That _is_ a relief.” 

“Oh, Yen,” you quickly grabbed the note out of your pocket and looked at it, _Geralt’s question was about the faces of Artorius Vigo?_

_Damn, Geralt...that’s a pretty good one._

You saw black velvet adorned fingers grip the parchment a second before it was ripped from your hands. 

“Hey!” you yelled, then realized that was as good a method as any and shrugged. 

To your surprise, the sorceress just raised her brows and nodded as she read the questions on the notes, “ _Quite_ the impressive list of inquiries, I must admit.” She folded the piece of parchment and put it in her pocket, “Most of them are already on a list of my unanswered questions of my _own._ I’ll have them for you by the next lesson. I’d say that’s reasonable?”

“Um,” you sighed, thinking of Regis, “yeah, but definitely don’t forget to try to answer why I feel _weighty_ here…”

“Well that probably has something to do with you being a _Door_ , but of course I will explore that.” 

“Okay,” you were getting that familiar feeling that this was the end of the lesson. You had to tell her about the _other_ name request...but you really felt ridiculous about it, “um,” you started, and Yen raised a brow at you. “Nothing. Thank you, I guess.”

Her head jut back marginally. “You’re welcome,” she said, disbelieving, “maybe don’t work on anything in preparation for next lesson...you might overdo it. I’m beginning to believe you’re _more_ than capable of doing what you need to, and the trick to these lessons will truly be to stop you from killing yourself while you manage it.”

_The most uplifting strategy, of course._

“Do you have your object Door?” she asked you, opening a portal. You nodded, holding up the flower.

“Mm _hmm_ ,” you tossed it into the air and caught it. 

“Then I trust you can see yourself out,” she smiled, “This was a _very_ good lesson, Maina.” 

You nodded, “ _Yes._ I thoroughly enjoyed discovering that I’m probably being hunted by an insane illusionist and who knows what else because they think I am going to collapse their precious limitless world between time and space, probably my favorite part!”

Yennefer looked thoroughly unamused, until the corner of her mouth perked up slightly, “The fear passes.” 

She walked towards the portal, “See you in two nights, Maina. _Do_ take care of yourself. You’ve done well.”

You sighed, and walked to the fountain and pointedly tried to drive out any thoughts that were Door related. _Okay,_ you thought, _time to relax._ You closed your eyes, breathed, and wrapped your hand around the flower carving. 

But nothing happened. 

You blinked, and stared down at the flower. _Oh-kay._ You put it back into your pocket and pat it idly, looking around and letting your weight roll back onto your heel. _Don’t freak out,_ you told yourself. _It’ll be fine._

 _You don’t need the damn object door to get into here, anyway,_ you assured yourself, and looked around. The sun was _still_ hanging directly in the center of the sky. _Don’t freak out._ You needed to be calm. 

You could do this, you just needed to relax enough to get back, though that was easier said than done, because your heart was pounding in your chest, so you began walking up the empty street towards your mansion. 

The air was still, you realized. You hadn’t noticed how still it was before, in this place. It was still and if you could just get over your anxiety, it would be peaceful. 

_It would be totally peaceful,_ you thought, as your footsteps on the cobblestones were the only noise you heard. _A fucking bird could chirp, chrissakes._ You really missed those birds. You turned the bend on the last lag to your estate’s front door, and you were feeling more relaxed. 

“I’m fine,” you said aloud and felt better by the sound of your voice. You opened the creaky, large front door of your estate and looked into the courtyard, down the steps, and checked out the garden as you made your way to the opposite end of where it stood. It didn’t look right, here. 

You flinched at something passing you overhead and then you actually _did_ hear a bird. Suddenly you couldn’t help but wonder how it got here, and you opened the double doors that led to the balcony when movement caught your eye and you froze. 

_Was there someone in the house?_

Slowly and quietly, you backed away from the double door while letting it shut, holding the handle open and turning it once it was already set in place so it wouldn’t _click._ The windows to the main living room were mostly reflecting the sun from outside, but when you got under the overhang, saw nothing to cause alarm. You walked to the entrance leading to the kitchen and opened it, sliding inside. It was a feeling, but you swear you thought you heard something, or perhaps felt something, as you took your first step into the empty, ornate, kitchen. You felt your chest starting to rise and your heart pounding. 

This was the opposite of relaxing. 

_It’s fine, Maina._

_You probably didn’t see anything. You are probably overreacting. You’re just freaking out because you got stuck here - no don’t say stuck._ You walked through the kitchen and slowly made your way to the living room. _You’re not stuck. I’m not stuck. I am not stuck. You always do this. You always get yourself worked up and then things become real that aren’t real and you need to calm down. See? Nothing in the living room. Let’s go up stairs. You’re fine. You’re fine and you’ll just go lay down in your bed, and you’ll relax._ You went to the hall and walked up the stairs. _You’ll be reminded of them and you’ll fall asleep, you’ll fall asleep and wake up next to them._

You froze on the stairs. 

_That was definitely a floorboard squeaking, right?_

You took a deep breath. 

_No, Maina, it wasn’t. This is in your head._

You got to the large, square bedroom and looked around it. It actually _did_ make you feel a lot calmer. You went and laid down on the bed, and closed your eyes. Feeling like this was going to work, you took a deep breath and-

_Squeeeeeak._

You shot up in the bed, your chest was rising and falling, it sounded like it had come from inside the room. 

But the room was empty. You could feel your heart thudding in your chest. _Where did that come from?_ The wall in front of the balcony started to look funny and you sat up closer trying to figure out how. The air in front rippled like it does over tar on a sunny day. It was moving along the wall. You noticed that it wasn’t rippling, really. You stood, and walked backwards. You were going insane. You started walking backwards out of the room and into the hall and the rippling along the wall followed you until your heel caught on the first step and you fell backwards, smacking your back on the first landing, somehow missing eight steps in the process.

You looked up to the top stair and all the hairs on your body stood on end - barrelling towards you was a man and as he got to the last step he leapt. 

“Marangoni’ss _bessst,”_ the man hissed from his featureless face as his feet left the floor - but then suddenly he _had_ a face, and then it was gone again and replaced by a smooth, gray surface. You felt something already weighty in your left hand as the man flew at you in slow motion and let it crack _like_ _lightning_.

The man’s body hit the ceiling and fell to the stairs, lifelessly. 

The pounding in your ears hurt as you dragged him out of the dark corner of the landing up the staircase into the light of the hallway. His face was there, you thought, but it was none you’d ever seen before and you weren’t sure you could describe it again if anyone asked. You knelt down beside him, feeling cold and warm at the same time. There was something hidden in his shirt. Your hand tingled as you reached out to open the flap of his plain coat. 

It was the handled jade mirror from the cottage and palace. It was Artorius Vigo’s way into Krael’ef. It was in this weird dead man’s coat, and he’d been traipsing around your home. Where Dacreval sleeps. You felt enraged. 

You stood up and your hand shot towards the window, breaking the glass with Thuom and, not even knowing how, you lifted the body with Ailma and shot it out into the courtyard. 

_“FUCK YOU,”_ you screamed, and fell to your knees, chest heaving. You felt your body beginning to cry but stopped yourself from letting it happen. “I should probably search the rest of him,” you thought. 

The sun was _still_ directly above you when you reached the lifeless, ash colored corpse. “Alright, you piece of shit,” you mumbled, kneeling next to him, feeling again like you wanted to cry. 

After searching the dead thing and finding nothing, you kicked it. “I _hate_ you.”

The body flew through the air off the balcony. You tied the handled jade mirror to your armor. If Artorius Vigo wanted to play games, you would play games. You closed your eyes and tried to push your energy out of you to find him, as if you still thought he was your familiar. You were surprised at how far your powers could go in this place…

An itch, an inkling. You followed it, shutting your eyes harder. You had to admit, Krael’ef was a good place to concentrate. The itch led you to a dark place, it was seedy and wet, it was...bubbly. You went further and it changed abruptly, and in your mind suddenly was the image of the cottage. Smiling, you got into the stance of a sprint. 

-_-_-_

You opened your eyes to the cottage and saw the faces of the dead. Quickly, you closed them again, allowing yourself to stand and put distance between you and the sight. The smell. Reaching out to Artorius Vigo as you did, you sighed, disheartened. He could no longer be felt. You wondered if your mind had wandered to the mirror when you were focusing on Artorius. Maybe you'd shifted focus on the mirror and that brought you the image of the cottage.

_Maybe I should listen to Yen more often._

Faint traces of laughter filled your ears as you opened your eyes, seeing the light on in the cottage. 

You knew you shouldn’t look. You knew it. You knew this. _I know this..._ but still your feet crept forward until you found yourself at the edge of the window that was nestled in the back of the small home. Regis and Amilie were laughing in their bed, and a sudden pang of envy ran through you, but you swallowed it. Regis looked so young, and happy, and carefree with her. He was laughing the hardest you’d ever seen him laugh. The pang of jealousy suddenly transformed itself into a deep, cutting pain in your heart. An appreciation for Amilie swelled in you as you took in the laughing face of the woman with deep set eyes and chestnut hair. They were beautiful together. 

Tears were in your eyes and you wiped them with the ball of your fists.

“You’re _drunk_ Regis,” you heard the sound of Amilie’s voice and, looking back up, realized that the scene was not what it had been a moment ago. _Am I willing this to happen?_ Amilie was sitting on the bed and Regis looked like he had just walked into the cabin itself.

He _was_ drunk _._ You squinted at the staggering vampire and felt your stomach drop at the fact that there was no mistaking he was drunk off human blood. 

_I shouldn’t be here,_ you thought, but you couldn’t peel yourself away from the pane as Amilie stood, hand on her neck. 

“You promised me that last time had been the _last time!”_ She went to the desk and drew out a drawer filled with loose pieces of parchment, “you and your inability to _speak_ about what matters.”

She threw the papers onto the ground, “ _what good are your notes and letters of apology, Regis, if not proof that you do not love me enough to stop?”_

You felt moisture in your eyes as Regis walked to her, “I know that,” he hiccupped, and you felt very unsettled about seeing your older mate so disoriented, “I am _trying,”_ he couldn’t form sentences as he slouched, putting his hands on the edge of the bed. 

“Perhaps if you’d let me drink from you,” he hiccupped again, “ _once._ ”

Amilie let her hand fall from her neck and pointed at the small wound, “not until _this_ heels,” she spat, “or have you forgotten?”

Regis sighed and laid flat on the bed as Amilie paced around him, “it is _never_ going to heal, Amilie,” he put a hand over his eyes, sounding like he was getting angry, “because you _keep recutting it!”_

Amilie stopped pacing and looked down at the older vampire. “How _DARE you!”_

 _“Just admit it,”_ Regis slewed. 

“You drink from other women,” Amilie sounded like she was beginning a list.

“Men, too, _animals,_ even,” Regis butt-in, “it’s not _as if_ it is _sex_ for fuck’s sake Amilie!”

“You _lie_ to me about your addiction,” she had her fingers out as she enumerated his misdeeds.

“Just admit _it,”_ Regis sat up and yelled. He walked to her and held her hands, “Just _admit_ that you can’t stand what I _am._ ” 

Amilie winced, her eyes gone wide and shook her head. “ _No,”_ she barked, “you are-”

“Come _on,_ ” Regis dropped her arms and looked at her point blank and sounding more sober, said with an unsteady voice, quiet voice, “you can’t stand the sight of me in my vampiric forms and you were disgusted when I drank from you.”

Amilie’s tear filled eyes were shaking ‘no’ at him.

“Not yesterday I witnessed you staring at my hands and you flinched when I went to touch you,” his voice cracked, and Regis began lifting his to Amilie’s face, but he stopped, and looked down at his long, vampiric fingers, before letting it fall beside him. 

“Get out,” Amilie pointed at the door. “Get out and come back to me when you’re sober and when you are acting like a _human being,”_ Regis walked to and out the door as Amilie belted after him, “ _and not a monster.”_

She was livid, and the scene changed again to her crying in the bed, shaking, until she fell asleep. 

Then her eyes started to bleed, and you realized that her chest was no longer moving. 

She was dead. 

You took a step backwards from the window and fell over a corpse that hadn’t been there before, onto another corpse you did not recognize. You looked up at the cottage feeling stiff. You stood up and ran. 

You fingered the mirror in your pocket and by the heartbreak in you, you escaped Krael’ef.

_-_-_-


	50. The Fam Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maina wakes up in her bed after a long night in Krael'ef to discover that they'll have to do something about Dettlaff's mother and AV. 
> 
> This was super fun to write! Hope you enjoy it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regis is pretty hot and he could stare at me in amazement any day of the week.
> 
> CW's: violence, kissing, kidnapped babies, good GOOD uncles, bad mothers, smooches saved for next chapter
> 
> Can't wait to name this freaking baby. OH and I mentioned I was making a piece for the FUR chapter and that's still happening.

You woke up to a blinding sunlight and groaned. _God, why is Toussaint so hot?_ Immediately Dettlaff’s energy swirled around you like a boa as his large hand grabbed you and wrapped you in his open arm. 

“Good morning,” you mumbled. You could hear the sound of people arguing downstairs in the kitchen and winced. The pain in your head felt like it was trying to split it into two, and you were more than certain one of those voices was Yennefer's.

“Maina,” Dettlaff’s head nudged the top of yours and he held you firmly, and your expression became soft at Dacreval’s sleeping, human form resting in the cradle of Dettlaff’s other arm. “How are you feeling?”

Very suddenly the events from the night prior came flooding back to you in waves. _Fuck._

“Where’s Regis?” you asked, wanting to confide in Dettlaff about what you’d discovered.

“He and Geralt are having a word with the sorceress,” his voice shook as he said it, and he had to close his eyes shut tight when his body started to follow his voice’s lead. You adjusted yourself to wrap your arms around his torso and squeezed him. 

“How long have they been speaking?” 

He sighed, “quite some time.” 

You turned your face up to Dettlaff’s large, strong muzzle. His eyes were looking straight ahead and were dangerous before Dacreval stirred and he turned his face down to regard his son. You watched as the anger left him, and was replaced by something caring. Then, looking away, they became even deadlier. 

“I, I think I saw what happened to Amilie,” you began, but Dettlaff just sighed and his expression turned sad as he nodded.

“He knows,” Dettlaff rubbed his muzzle on you, and you remembered Regis’ large, bat-like head’s scent glands and smiled, before your smile faded. 

That made _you_ frown massively.

“He made her feel angry and sad enough to get pulled in,” you stated, feeling yourself begin to wander back to those living memories in your mind and shook it out. 

Dettlaff just nodded his head against yours and held you closer to his chest and abdomen, “yes,” he replied, “I don’t know if learning he did not slay her with his own hands - or gullet, is as much as a comfort to him as he’d thought it would be...in this way.”

You thought about your own addiction and couldn’t imagine how terrible it would have been to have met Dettlaff or Regis during the throws of it. Addictions make for reckless and unrealized actions. There was a pang in your heart for the older vampire, and wanted to soothe him.

One of Dettlaff’s long, vampiric fingers slid beneath your chin and lifted your face up to meet his cutting, steely grey gaze, “Regis is dealing with it. He knows that he had broken her heart, Maina. He had known in _his_ heart, that he had been responsible for her death. It is not a new pain,”

“Just a different kind,” you both said in unison. He smiled at you sadly. 

“He loves you very much, Maina,” Dettlaff’s coarse, deep voice was in your ear, “we will take care of him and he will be fine. I have not seen him so happy in a long, long time.”

Dettlaff smiled.

“It even seems like he is becoming himself again.”

-

You walked hand in hand with Dettlaff down the sunny staircase towards the kitchen feeding a sleepy, cranky Dacreval in his cotton sling. The amount of hair he was getting made your heart flutter, and a part of you was absolutely delighted that his eyes were staying the same shade of blue. His fingers were getting so long…

Dettlaff’s large vampiric hand squeezed yours, “Do not be afraid of the sorceress, Maina.”

You pitched your head at him and squinted, “what do you mean, _afraid?”_

His lip almost curled up, and it probably would have, given a different situation.

“You hesitate to speak your mind around her,” he informed you as you reached the first floor and started walking through the hall, the dark wood of it speckled in the light coming in from the windows of the living room and courtyard. “I can feel it. It's also obvious.”

You would have smiled, too, in your squintiness at him, if it weren’t for the fact that your stomach was turning because you were about to find out what Yennefer had to say and…

“You’re right,” you sighed, and winced at Dacre’s little fangs before adding, “if you notice it when it’s happening, because I don’t, can you...squeeze my hand or cough or say something?”

His hand tightened around yours comfortingly and as you turned in towards the kitchen to the growing sound of upset voices, his deeper, resounding one bellowed, “Voto.”

“That’s because you should have made sure she got _out_ okay,” Geralt barked, walking to a window and looking out of it, “and now you’re telling me that she is some mega phenomena in the world of who gives a flying fuck…”

Geralt stopped as he turned around and saw you, Dacreval, and Dettlaff standing in the doorway, Dettlaff squeezed your hand. 

“I am _very_ sorry that I did not wait to see you out completely, Maina,” Yennefer said, eyeing Geralt, before turning back to you, “I will be sure to _next_ time,” she eyed Geralt again at the word ‘next’.

“It’s okay,” you replied half paying attention as you and Dettlaff walked over to Regis, who was sitting in a chair with his thumb and index-finger pinching the bridge of his nose. He reached out with his other hand and held yours when you got to him. 

“How are you?” he asked into his hand.

“I’m fine, Regis,” you replied, your mouth feeling dry. “How are you?”

He simply nodded. 

“What is that?” Dettlaff’s energy went as cold as his voice. 

“What?” Yennefer asked, “That? It’s the mirror, Artorius Vigo’s _entryway.”_

“Haven’t you seen it before?” Geralt asked, and Dettlaff didn’t answer. 

“It’s my mother’s,” he stated, stonily, his energy becoming completely unlike himself in a very, _very,_ dangerous way as he looked at the handled, jade mirror. 

“Yennefer,” Regis piped up, still speaking into his palm, “You wouldn’t happen to have any idea of what an A-yule, is? Or an Ahhl? To vampires? Dettlaff’s mother has been referring to him as 'Awl' in his dreams, but he despises you too much to inform you himself.”

Dettlaff rumbled. 

Yennefer’s face fell- she slowly closed her eyes, and nodded. 

“Yes,” she replied, sitting on a stool of the island, “I do.”

“And?” you asked, she was looking deep in thought at the floor, and held up a finger for a split moment before raising her head.

“What did the man look like? The man who had the mirror?” she asked. 

Your brows knit, “what did he look like? Nothing. He didn’t look like anything, I swore he didn’t even have a face.”

“Did he have anything else on him? Did he say anything?” she continued probing. 

Your head started to nod.

“Yes,” you breathed... _what was it? What was the word?_ “He said something like...fuck, it was like Macaroni but not…”

Yennefer popped off her stool and walked outside, the four of you watching her as she went. When she returned, she threw down your mail and searched through the pieces of parchment paper until she held one up.

“Marangoni?” she asked, and your hairs rose, as if something in you remembered him.

“Yes,” you replied, it was nearly a whisper. Dacreval shifted at your breast and you pat his back, “yes, it was Marangoni.”

“What does that mean?” Geralt asked, “Who’s Marangoni?”

“It’s the name of the Third Door,” Yennefer threw the paper back down on the coffee table. 

_The Third Door...the crazy man. The crazy man who wanted to stop you from destroying Krael’ef. Is Artorius Vigo?_

You shook your head, “What’s an a-yule?”

Yennefer had gone back to deep thought, and finally she shook her head and stood, “It’s an Aule,” she walked towards the window as four sets of eyes followed her, “it’s a vampiric prophecy started by those desperate to reach their world again. They believe one, true, able member of them will come, the Aule, and be powerful enough to open the entrance to their home.”

She looked at the mirror, then to Dettlaff. 

Then to Dacreval. 

You felt yourself backing up, “No.”

Yennefer didn’t even look at you sympathetically, she merely looked away. 

“No,” you said again, “no, no, _no.”_ You held your baby closer to you, “If that _bitch_ thinks she is coming anywhere near our _son_ …”

You realized that she already thought she was. Dettlaff put his arm around you, and Regis was squeezing your other hand. You could feel Dettlaff’s energy spiking. “I will kill her.”

-

The plan wasn’t a bad one. It wasn’t necessarily a _good_ one, but it wasn’t a bad one. It was simple. So far, Dettlaff _always_ woke up where his mother was when he ventured into Krael’ef. You couldn’ be certain if this was a weird vampiric thing, because Regis’ parents were both dead and you didn’t have a larger sample size. So, Dettlaff would take the cat figurine and Yennefer would open a portal for him to simply walk through it into Krael’ef on his own. Dettlaff _insisted_ that he dealt with his mother on his own terms, and you were freaking about it.

You, on the other hand thought you could feel Artorius well enough, if you didn’t get distracted by outside thoughts or Regis’ past.

Traveling in Krael’ef was volatile. 

Which meant that you and Regis were going to go search for Artorius Vigo and grill him on whatever is really going on while Geralt stayed back and kept an eye on Dacre. Yennefer was going to keep a close perimeter around the estate _in_ Krael’ef as added security. 

You were justifiably terrified.

Geralt was staring at you, Dettlaff, Yennefer, and Regis from where he sat on the opposite side of the courtyard holding dacreval, and you ran over to your son one last time and kissed him on his cheeks. 

“I love you so much,” you told him. He was upset, and you were very much convinced he knew something was going on - and that broke your heart. You walked back over to the rest of the group and Dettlaff swept you up in his arms. 

“Let Regis protect you if he needs to,” he whispered in your ear, “do not come near me in there, okay?”

You wanted to end her so badly that you weren’t certain if that was a promise you could make, but you nodded your head. 

For your son. 

Dettlaff kissed you again and set you down. When he went to walk towards Yennefer’s portal, though, Regis caught his hand and, as Dettlaff pivoted on his heel, brought the younger vampire in and kissed him. Dettlaff sharply inhaled at the gesture, and his large hands went to wrap themselves around Regis’ midsection as he parted his lips and returned it, passionately. He held the older vampire to him, a ribbon of blood running down Regis’ chin before they broke the embrace. You swallowed, and were pretty certain you had just forgotten the plan.

“Do be careful,” Regis said, “we still need to proselytize you into marriage after this...” 

Dettlaff’s eyes got wide as he looked at you, blushed, and bit his lip. The faintest smile flashed across his face before he walked through the portal. 

Yennefer’s varying expressions were combating each other on her face. She shook her head in disbelief, eyes wide, and walked through a portal of her own.

You fumbled with the strap of your dagger and felt your chest beginning to rise and fall excitedly. Regis turned to you, he looked nervous. He looked very, very, _very_ , nervous. He approached you and you grabbed his large hands. 

He looked terrible.

“So a three party wedding?” you asked, surprised that that had come to him on his own. Regis’ forehead lifted and he smirked slightly. His eyes continued to take you in before frowning again. 

“You saw that night,” he said stiffly, looking somewhere around your clavicle. 

“Yes,” you nodded. _Had he visited it?_ The fingers of your hand cupped the surgeon-barber’s chin and you tilted his face to you. The dark, swirling and endless eyes of Regis were soft, and his brow puckered up in the middle. You had wanted to tell him first that it was _okay,_ that he hadn’t done anywhere near as much wrong as he believed, but instead you found your face closing the distance between the two of you, and before another thought could occur to you other than that you loved him, your mouth found his. 

You held onto the sides of his face where his cheeks went hollow and rubbed his cheekbones. You felt his large hands wrap around the rear of your head in response as he began to kiss you back. Breaking the embrace, you looked at him, “We will talk about this more, later. Okay?”

He nodded. 

Clearing your mind of all other distractions to the best of your ability, you filled it with one thing. The thought of that stupid bastard Artorius Vigo...or Marangoni. He was somewhere seedy and dark. Your brow turned down as you searched for it. Until you saw it. It was a city. He was in a strange, dark, city with jagged edges and terrifying architecture _inside_ Krael’ef. You squeezed Regis’ hands and his hands squeezed back.

“Hold me,” you told him, keeping your eyes closed. 

“Pardon?” Regis voice asked. 

“It will help me,” you professed, and felt the arms of Regis wrap around you and pull you in close before you filled yourself with Ailma, and were gone.

_-_-_-

The two of you were standing on something sticky, you thought. The ground didn’t feel right on the street you stood in. You looked around. _No,_ you thought, _we’re in an alleyway._ Regis let go of you and he looked around. 

“My _god,_ ” he began, “what _is_ this place?”

He was right in his awe...you held his hand tighter. It was grey and black and the dreariest thing you’d ever seen in your life. You felt Regis hand rewrap itself around you and hold you to him, tightly. 

“Do you feel him?” he whispered, and you nodded. 

You could. You could sense him like he was a coon and you were a bloodhound, you thought. “Stay close,” you told Regis as you unwrapped his arm from you and held his hand. As you went to walk, though, his hand stayed where it was and you looked back at him, his brows had shot up, and he looked taken aback. You rolled your eyes, “I’m stronger than you, here.” 

Regis’ eyes got squinty, but at the same time, his nostrils flared and he looked you up and down. You turned around as he shook his head.

“Good god I’ve never been more aroused in my _life,”_ you heard him say behind you as you gave his hand a tug and walked out to the end of the alleyway. You peeked your head out. 

“Well?” Regis began, “Which way is...”

The older vampire’s voice gave way at the sight of the residents. They were...monstrous. Truly monstrous. They were odd amalgamations of animals and humans, and vampires, it looked like - but that’s not what made them monstrous. What made them monstrous was the way they couldn’t get more than a few steps without pushing or spitting or hollering something unsavory. The two of you were going to need to take the alleyways, you thought.

“The sheer lack of decorum,” The older vampire looked nearly impressed, “This may be the most disgusting display of-”

“This way,” you tugged Regis’ hand and walked through the crowd, skipping around the large, cloaked bodies as Regis fell in step behind you, and when you looked back to check on him at the end of your grip, you saw that he was doing so with much more elegance. His eyes lit up when he saw you looking at him and his near dance-like fluidity, and you tugged him harder, reminding yourself to concentrate. 

The feeling was leading you towards what looked to be the center of the city, you thought, given that you could see more spires and jagged edges all around you as indication. You got to the end of a street and it abruptly stopped, turning into a wall around a corner. You turned to Regis, who was shaking his head in disbelief.

“The city planning is a little lacking,” Regis observed dryly as you felt something wet pop on the shoulder of your armor. It was black and sticky. 

“What the?” you began, and Regis’ long fingers reached out and swiped some of it from your shirt. When he sniffed it, his head jut back slightly, staring at it.

“ _Tar?_ ” he asked, full of curiosity, and looked up. 

You followed his gaze and saw for the first time, hundreds of tar filled bubbles above the city. You lifted your foot and assessed your boots. _That explains the sticky._

“My _god_ , this place,” Regis said, looking around.

“No kidding _,”_ you replied. You started going back the other way, turning a left corner down an alleyway and trying to get to the middle of the city. 

“Maina,” Regis began as you focused on the feeling and not tripping over broken crates or old, gray, rotten food, “as you can transport yourself and use Ailma,” his voice stopped for a moment when you heard the popping noise of a tar filled bubble and him sighing, “from what Yennefer informed us, that indicates you’re either The Fourth or The Fifth Door, yes?”

You admittedly hadn’t thought about that yet. 

You jumped over a man laying in the middle of the alleyway, cloaked in black and rubbing his pig’s snout with a rag and felt your arm lull to Regis’ more graceful leap following you. 

“What were you a _dancer_ or something?” you finally asked behind you as you felt for Vigo and rounded another corner. 

“If you _must_ know, I was a-”

Regis voice stopped as you pushed him backwards to the other side of the alleyway and a large chunk of stone flew past the two of you. Both your eyes got wide as you stared at each other, and you looked to see where it had come from. 

Standing in the middle of the alleyway, was the illusionist Artorius Vigo. 

“You son of a _Bitc-”_

“Ah _ahh,_ ” he scolded, his body beginning to shift its shape, “that’s no way to talk to your dear old brother Marangoni…”

“What?” you asked, “The other Doors aren’t insane pricks you like who drive people mad I don’t know who-”

He was a panther, and he was running.

“ _Shit_.”

You bolted into a sprint after the tail of the large, black cat with Regis in tow, you could feel the older vampire gaining on you when you saw that he was in his transitional form.

You felt yourself beginning to slow as the two of you turned down the next dark, wet alley after the faster cat.

“ _Don’t,”_ you panted _, “transform completely,”_ your legs were starting to feel like jelly.

“Why ever not?” Regis yelled back, jumping over a crate with ease. It was a straight shot, and the two of you could see Artorius’ lithe, feline body sprinting ahead the long, walled alley that curved out of sight. “If I do, I can _fly_ us.”

You felt for Vigo, even as you watched him, feeling like you were going to fall, “I know,” you yelled back to Regis as you neared him in your dead sprint and caught his forearm by the hand, “I’m just,” you huffed, “ _faster_.”

_Blink._

Regis landed before you onto the alleyway cobblestone not breaking or shaking his stride and you fell into then on top of him, taking him to the ground. You sat up, the cat was gone. 

Large, vampiric hands went to your body and pulled you close to him, “That was amazing,” Regis whispered breathlessly into your ear, “can you feel him?”

You were panting, trying to catch your breath, “No...”

“...wait.”

You could feel Regis’ energy getting nervous and mimicking your own emotions when you grabbed his arm again, “that son of a _bitch.”_

-_-_-_

-

Geralt was holding Dacreval in the smaller, comfier guest bedroom of Dettlaff’s estate when he heard a strange sound above. He looked down at the baby, “you can transform at any time, now, little Nipo.”

The medicine wasn’t kicking in.

The witcher stood, holding the baby to his side and opened the door with his ass. The hallway seemed funny to him for a moment, but his medallion wasn’t humming. He looked up at the ceiling, then back down at Dacreal, “well I can’t really go investigate that _with_ you.”

He pursed his lips and shrugged, “and I can’t really _leave_ you in here _alone_ ,” he looked around the room, then looked out in the hall where it seemed fine, now. Then he looked up at the ceiling, then he looked down at Val, who was staring up at him with a slight smile. Geralt shook his head. “You babies don’t make things easy, do you?”

He walked back to the bed and looked at Dacreval after he set him down, “if I’m gonna be honest, I kinda skipped that part...the _baby_ part of parenting, I mean.”

Dacreval’s small hands pat the top of the bedding excitedly, displaying a row of tiny, mismatched little fangs. It made the witcher’s eyes light up and he smiled. 

_Squeaak._

Geralt’s silver sword sliced through the air as an ash colored head hit the floor. The witcher peered at the head out of the corner of his eye as the body which it had belonged to hit the floor beside it with a lazy _thud_.

He knelt next to it and investigated the blue slate colored skin, “must be one of those thin men Maina was talking about.”

Dacre could not understand.

Geralt stood from the body and his jaw flexed. Nudging the corpse out of the room, he looked down the dark mahogany wall of the estate and closed the door, slowly backing away from it back into the room. He turned around and saw the balcony was beginning to shift in the air and he pierced it with his silver. 

As he did, the body of another plainly dressed man appeared, impaled and dying, at the end of it. 

“Who the fuck are you?” the witcher asked, but the man had taken one last gasp and expired, bleeding from the mouth. 

Geralt withdrew his sword and the man’s body fell to the ground. He looked behind him at Dacreval, then back to the body, “Well, damn.” He opened the window and tossed it out, “see? No problem.”

The witcher was becoming nervous. “How the hell are they--”

His eyes got wide, “oh for fuck’s sake that fucking mirror works in the _waking world?”_

He grabbed Dacreval and took him downstairs. When he reached the first floor it was still eerily quiet, and his medallion was silent - but the witcher could sense something. He drew his sword as Val stared up at him in wonder, raised it and pierced the wall where it had twitched just slightly, and another body fell.

“There are way too many of these things in here right now,” he told Dacre, who was giggling. “Or at least I have the feeling there’s gonna be…” He looked down at Val, “what are you so happy abou-? _Oh!_ _Peek-a-boo,_ right...Yeah...it's like peek-a-boo...”

A man turned from the hall and barreled towards the witcher at a sprint - Geralt spun, his knee hitting the ground and pivoting on it, and fell the thin man. Hairs rising on his neck gave him cause to slide, Dacreval tucked beside his abdomen, into the opposite wall and rest flat up against it. The witcher’s chest was dancing in excitement as he heard the squeak of a floorboard from where he knelt hiding and cut down another. 

He looked down at Val, and grinned, “See? Tosi's got ya.”

Then suddenly there were _too_ many squeaks.

“Fuck,” the witcher whispered to himself, and looked through the doorway to the kitchen. He could make out the end of the jade handle and took a deep breath. “I love you, little guy.”

He slid across the floor as two thin men grabbed his shoulders, clawing for the child in his arm. Geralt stood with Dacre and, turning, threw his sword in the air and lit the two on fire with the palm of his hand before catching the silver. He spun to stick another sly figure behind him and sheathed it to run for the mirror when something flew from it, blinding him. 

A pantalooned man grabbed Dacreval from the momentarily sightless witcher and snagged the mirror’s jade handle. The blinded witcher could only make out a sickly sweet voice as it cooed, “I’ll be taking _these.”_

The flash was over and the man, baby, and mirror were gone. 

Geralt looked around frantically at the seemingly empty kitchen. “Dacre!” He called.

He fell to his knees where the baby had been, then heard a squeak. 

And another.

And another.

The witcher stood and, eyes filled with fury, drew his sword. Before him were countless thin men, and he was going to slay every single one of them. 

“You all fucked with the wrong baby,” he witcher’s voice was shaking, and as the first thin man approached him, Geralt wound up and punched him in the face, cast Aard on the man beside him and sent a single crossbow bolt through his head and the thin man he had staggered into.

Then he took a step forward and, turning his grip so that the blade faced his rear, threw igni at the oncoming man, swept his leg, and as he finished spinning his blade sunk into the enemy beside him. Geralt turned his head as he cut down another thin man grabbing at him, they were all coming in waves, now. He wondered how many there really were with Yennefer in Krael’ef. 

He drew up his sword when he heard a _whoosh._

He looked towards the noiseand saw the red hair of Maina fall into the living room followed by a clawed, fanged Regis, who landed gracefully beside her.

 _Squeak_. The witcher plunged another undesirable. 

“Where is he?” the woman’s orotund voice called.

 _Squeak._ Geralt set sparks at another.

“With the mirror,” Geralt called, and watched wordlessly as Maina swept to her feet without the use of her legs, or anything else the witcher could see, grabbed the vampire and disappeared. 

-

_-_-_-

“With the mirror,” Geralt called at you, looking as if he were becoming overwhelmed with those terrifying, faceless men. Heart pounding in your ears you grabbed Regis by the forearm and flew.

_Blink._

Your face nearly smacked the checkered floor of the palace, but large, clawed fingers grabbed you by your outstretched arm and stopped you. Regis pulled you up to his body and stepped in front of you. Your vision was slightly starry, but when it started coming back to you you saw Artorius, The Third Door, with your child. 

“Dettlaff is here,” Regis said, his voice lowered to you and nodded to some floor above, “I can feel him.”

“Yes,” the Third spoke, “he and the tyrant are both here, and once I give her her precious Aule,” he lifted Dacreval in his arms…

“Dacre,” you whispered breathlessly. Val saw you, immediately his little lip began to quiver and he started crying. 

“Though I doubt this pudgy,”

Regis was shaking. You could feel tension building inside you. 

“Stupid little thing she seems to captivated by could be _it_ ,”

Regis was _rippling._ You weren’t sure if you were taking in too much tension.

“She is going to _kill_ you.”

 _He needs to have_ her _kill me?_

_The Third can’t use Ailma._

His eyes flickered towards the ceiling.

“You’re afraid of me,” you told him blankly, and a rumble started on the ceiling above him as you reached out with your energy and pulled on it. The man started thumbing something in his pocket and you used your other hand to tug at Dacre out of panic.

The man’s eyes got wide as Dacreval flew out of his arms and into your own before you pulled down _hard._

“I really hate The Fift-” the ceiling above Artorius collapsed and silenced him in a pit of rubble.

Regis’ body stopped shaking as he morphed to looking like a man. He turned towards you, his eyes flickering across you, then your jaw was being gripped and he was kissing you as you stood and held Dacreval to your body, and you kissed him back before breaking. 

“Dacre” you kissed his face and looked him over. He seemed alright, and put him on your hip. 

You were going to kill her. 

“Where is he?” you asked, looking above you.

“He specifically told you to not come after him and his mother,” Regis reminded you, “though apparently you _are_ The Fifth…”

His eyes traveled over your body again and he swallowed before looking up and meeting your gaze. He pointed his finger diagonally across the ceiling and held out his other arm for you to grab, “That way.”

-_-_-_

_-_-_-

The older vampire was pulled through to a large room with no ceiling by his mate and landed easily on the marble. He reached out his hand and caught her by the waist, then brought her close to him. The older vampire began allowing his body to quake. He was going to be as prepared as he could. 

He looked around for the feeling of Dettlaff and found it somewhere in the clear blue sky above him. Two large, winged, creatures were tearing at each other, and he could discern that he knew one of them. 

“What are they doing?” Maina asked no one in particular, and he felt the entire weight of her presence in the question, as if the world was being shifted when she asked it. 

She was so very weighty here. 

As she asked, one of the large bodies landed on the floor and it _shook_ beneath him. It was Dettlaff.

“Leave, Maina,” he roared, “she will not see reason.”

Maina’s eyes got wide as she looked up at the other figure, and Regis was not certain if it was hate or awe that filled her expression, but the woman held her baby to her bosom tighter, and started walking towards Dettlaff.

“Maina,” Regis low voice quaked through the air, “let me take him.”

He knew she was beyond allowing his advice at this moment. 

“He’s safest with me,” the red haired woman replied, “you’re all safest with me.”

A massive body- larger, longer and sleeker than Dettlaff’s, hit the floor between them all and stood. Regis thought that it was probably the oldest vampire he had ever seen. Just then the surgeon-barber smelled something.

“Well, well, well,” the mother’s voice echoed through the air as she took in her new company. “If it isn’t The Fifth who’s come by to say hello.” 

Regis was certain what he had smelled was fear, and now he heard it in her voice. 

“I don’t want either of you,” she smiled at her son and his red haired mate, rows of teeth peering out behind her lips, “I just want the _baby_ , for a moment, for less than a moment, really…”

Regis couldn’t help but take note of how much she tried to sound like she’d rather be taking a nap, despite the fact that she was _shaking_.

“You were my mother,” Dettlaff bellowed, “and this is your _grandchild.”_

Regis could recognize Dettlaff becoming furious, and stiffened.

Dettlaff’s mother hissed, through her many rows of teeth, her eyeless, hairless head, and cocked it. “Yes. You _were_ my child…”

Maina had hung something on top of Dettlaff, and Regis noticed that it was Dacreval’s tiny, bat body. 

-_-_-_

_-_-_-

You reached out to the terrible figure with your energy and could feel her presence there, as you stared daggers into her. _Daggers..._

“You were supposed to be the Aule, to take us back to our home,” she hissed, “but instead you turned out just like every, single, other. The useless,”

You were going to kill her.

“Desperate,”

You felt yourself crouching,

“Ank’ahal, just like your broth-” 

You leased your dagger with your clumsy hand, and the eyeless head of Dettlaff’s mother was suddenly being stabbed. Letting the tension fill you until you felt like you were going to _pop,_ you raised your right arm and stepped into it as quickly as you could, shooting Thuom through the air in bounds. 

The galloping current smacked his mother in the front where she wailed and her body flew backwards against the outer wall of the building, causing it to crumble. 

“You _bitch,_ ” you spat, letting yourself fill with Ailma. You were going to end this. The vampire woman in her massive body slapped her wing against the floor as she stood, the current from it almost sweeping you off your feet. You could feel Dettlaff and Regis approaching behind you, and with a nudge of your arms you tossed them backwards to safety, feeling like it was _easy._

The giant vampire froze where she stood when she saw you were not afraid of her. She started to look around frantically as you continued to approach, but you did not give one fucking shit. Yennefer was right.

The fear passes.

“If you think,” your chest was rising and falling with every step.

“That you can abandon Dettlaff,” you were certain tears were rolling down your face in your rage. 

“As a _BOY_ ,” tension was filling you and you were going to let it continue until you could bring this entire palace down, if you had to. 

“Then try to steal our child,” you swallowed, and something sparking shot from your hand that you were unfamiliar with. 

“MY child,” you were no longer standing on the ground at all. 

“Then _you_ ,” you raised your hand. 

“Have to go.” The vampire's eyes got wide. At once you swept your family in close to you and your heart became incredibly calm. You closed your eyes. There was a swishing noise and a wind howling in your ear, but it only helped you concentrate more.

You willed to transport them with you to the fountain courtyard and with all the power you had summoned, ordered this place in Krael’ef _gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it wasn't clear, Amilie was a Door. 
> 
> Which door? Probably the reincarnated Fifth like Maina...SUCK HER BLOOD REGIS


	51. A Gift From a Flower To a Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maina's previous use of Ailma takes a toll on her physically. She regains full consciousness to find she is being watched over by Regis, who is keeping his distance.

Light smacked your being as you smacked the large body of Dettlaff in the fountain courtyard. It was brighter out than you’d ever thought possible. There was a faraway din, a feeling of an errant gravitational pull from somewhere in the distance that told you Krael’ef had answered you - had bent to your will. 

It was hard to hear anything with how loud it was. Your body was sore and the body holding you was in motion. Dettlaff was trying to say something to you - the mouth of his eyeless face moving, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying. Now you were in the estate’s courtyard. 

You let your head roll lazily to the side.

Thin men, quiet in their physique and dress, were strewn about everywhere - the garden, bungalows and fountain. Disposed. The tiniest claws were climbing your shirt and you wanted to look at your son, but you closed your eyes. 

When you opened them you saw Yennefer looking at where the sky was circling until it stopped, somewhere out and beyond this strange Toussaint. Dettlaff’s large, monstrous hands held you closer. Regis was close to you, but it was getting too bright to see.

-

You woke up to the sound of something fluttering and realized it was Dacreval flying above you. It was still too bright for you to see correctly, and your brain felt like it was expanding into your skull, or your skull constricting against your brain. “I love you, Dacre,” you whispered and fell back into a state of rest. 

When you woke next you noticed that you currently were and had been in the living room. A large hand was stroking your head and was accompanied by Dettlaff’s energy. It felt good to be wrapped in it, you thought. 

“I suspect these symptoms,” Yennefer’s voice was floating in from some other room, “entering and exiting Krael’ef, Regis,” 

“...the damage killing humans but merely causing you to regenerate,” your brows knit at her voice; your head hurting more, “it hasn’t given you time to adjust,”

Dettlaff’s thumb drew circles on your arm as he hummed and you sighed. It helped you feel better.

Regis voice drifted in. You felt sick.

“I can’t fathom why I should desire that more now,” he sounded frustrated, “it’s suddenly overwhelming,” he was too far.

A coo filled your ears as Dettlaff’s energy rolled around you, massaging your aches, you thought it felt like that in this moment. You heard a small squeak. You felt your hand go to the small of your belly. 

“It is safe,” Dettlaff’s voice drifted to you and you felt his fingers gently caressing your face, “our children are safe.”

He cooed again and you sighed. It helped you feel better.

You lulled asleep. 

  
  


-

Stirring, you woke. Opening your eyes to traces of moonlight coming in through the living room window. The fireplace was lit in the corner to your right where you faced the view, but you noticed that neither Dettlaff nor Dacreval were keeping you company on the… _who put me on the fainting couch?_ You scanned its curves in the dark of the room. You frowned at the lack of family members surrounding you. You wanted to be near them after what had occurred today... _yesterday?_

A beat.

 _What day is it?_

You thought of Dettlaff’s mother and shook from chills and anger, then wondered if that loud sound, and the phenomena in Krael’ef’s sky had been your destruction. You shivered again. 

_She’s gone._

You pulled the blanket that cloaked you above your shoulder and wrapped it under your arm, comfortably.

 _Val probably has to sleep,_ you thought, rolling more blanket beneath your arm to snuggle in his and Dettlaff’s stead. The image of Dacreval trying to wake you came to mind. _Or Dacre keeps interrupting your rest and Dettlaff is overprotective right now._ You smiled. _Or just the right amount of being protective of both of you._ You thought of how soothing his energy was earlier, and missed its presence. You loved him so much.

Feeling your head with your palm, you yawned. The aching had finally stopped. You wondered if everything would be too bright, still, if there were any light to judge, then the flickering of the fireplace caught your attention again. It danced off of the tip of your toes at the end of the long cushion _Right._ You looked at the fire...and it seemed normal. 

  
  
  


You noticed a figure sitting on the lounge next to the halo that ringed the fireplace and squinted. Fear started to seep into you until the hairs on the back of your neck rose to a familiar tingling - and you exhaled in relief.

Regis was watching over you tonight, reading by the light of the fire. He had his chin between his thumb and fingers, the forefinger stroking his bottom lip in a serene looking contemplation. You wanted to watch him read more often, you decided as you observed the older vampire in the dim, dancing fire light. 

Regis’ dark eyes reflected each flame and crackle of the firewood - the side of his face illuminated enough so that you could see his reactions to the text as he read. How his brows knit now and again, or his jaw tense as the side of his mouth pulled to one side in criticism, or his head pitch towards his shoulder in curiosity, or tilt back in modest surprise. You thought the look of criticism was your favorite, but the sight of his interest being piqued was...mesmerizing, to you. His hawk-like features intensifying. The way his eyes would move more quickly across the page, and you noticed that he’d sit up ever so slightly. You wanted to probe that mind of his. You wanted him.

The conversation you heard between him and Yennefer resurfaced in your memory. Or at least what you thought you heard. About how he hadn’t had any time to adjust to something. 

...A something that was overwhelming him. 

You frowned.

Overwhelming him from recent regenerations. You knew when he regenerated, he regained more of himself. _Why would that make him thirst for my blood?_ You were fairly certain that was the topic of conversation. He wasn’t next to you. You took a deep breath, the lids of your eyes shrouding all vision and you sighed at the distance from which he sat. Regis was in the middle of looking critically at his page when you broke his concentration by falling back on the loveseat with a soft _thud._

“Your thirst for my blood is overwhelming you,” your eyes reopened to the dark. It mirrored your pointed statement. You looked towards the surgeon-barber.

Regis nodded his head before he marked his page and snapped the book closed with his long, vampiric fingers.

“Now, yes,” he looked away from you to the moonlight. “Though I should say calling it a ‘thirst’ _does_ feel like a misnomer.”

“How do you mean?” you went to sit up and Regis shifted in his seat. 

“You can’t imagine how sorry,” he exhaled, ignoring your question and trying to find his words. The older vampire started over, “that I begin having the worst call to drink an individual’s blood I’ve ever had in my life...” He gave up on the fragment. His eyes scanned the many window panes until they became distant. “Or at least since…” he pursed his lips.

_Since Amilie._

The two of you sat in relative silence for a short while. You didn’t know what to say. Regis was still regarding the reflection of the glass, or perhaps regarding something that your human eyes couldn’t see, when he spoke next.

“Admittedly I thought concealment of the situation was my only route,” Regis lifted his eyebrows, “...I find I am a bit _out of practice_ in terms of conveying messages about the self, when they’re of importance.”

He snorted mirthlessly, “ _only_ when they’re of importance, even.”

Your gut knotted, “Regis...”

“I would never hurt you, Maina,” Regis closed his eyes, “I promise you that.”

It sounded like he was trying to convince himself of it.

“I know you wouldn’t, Regis,” you frowned, “I never believed for a moment you would.”

He bit his lip.

“What on earth could cause you to have this confidence in me,” he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and his brow, sucking in air sharply. You could feel your expression becoming one of sadness.

“You didn’t mean for her to die, Regis.” You spoke the words aloud to him and suddenly what had happened became much more real to you than it had been before. 

Letting your feet find the chill of the marble floor, you stood from the fainting couch and walked over to the surgeon-barber. 

But when you reached him, you didn’t know if you should sit next to him. If that would be hard for him because of his bloodlust. You looked down at him and said plainly, “Mistakes happen.”

“I feel I might as well have bit her throat open, Maina.” Regis’ satin voice was low and distant, “I caused it. Not only because I am a vampire, but because I am a _bad_ vampire.”

“It seemed like,” you hesitated before deciding that you didn’t _care_ if it felt invasive or not. You were talking about this. “It seemed to me that Amilie had been working through some things of her own, in terms of loving a vampire. You can’t pretend that you were in full control of the situation.” You breathed, surprised at your own sudden confidence, “You weren’t. I’m sorry for her having issues with your nature, Regis. I want you to know that I don’t think you’re a-”

“Maina, dear,” Regis looked up at you, “if you think that I believe _you,_ the most accepting human I have ever met, think that _I_ am a monster because I am a _vampire,_ you’d be sorely mistaken.”

You thought he was trying to avoid this

“...and I do mean _sorely_ ,” he added, dryly.

“What is _that_ suppo-”

“You fucked me as a _bat.”_

“I’d still like to say it,” you replied, and he went to put his face in his hands but you stopped him from doing so, grabbing his lengthy fingers. “Look at me.” 

Regis’ eyes flickered to you and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His far brow started to tense downwards, and you could tell that he was biting the front inner lining of his lip as his gaze shifted to every object around the footstool in front of him. 

“Regis,” you whispered, and his eyes flicked to you again before his brows turned up and his nostrils flared. “You are not a bad vampire.” 

His jaw flexed as he clenched it and his eyelids closed, being held down by the weight of his browline. He nodded once, tersely. 

“That’s a rather appealing sentiment,” Regis started through a clenched jaw.

“You are not bad.”

He breathed through his flaring nostrils, “Stop, Maina.”

The blood of his inner lip was coated on his fangs.

“You are not bad,” you repeated, “Look at me.”

Regis’ eyes were bloodshot. His pupils dilating in fear, devouring his iris. 

“Then I am a fun _monster_ in all my sexual variations?”

Your mouth dropped open. 

“I had sex with you in that form because I _love_ you, Regis. I find it attractive because it’s _you.”_

He winced and looked away. 

“Look at me, Regis.”

You held his fearful gaze with the passion of your own. Your voice firm.

“She didn’t love you back. She lied and so did you.”

“I know these things.” 

“That does not mean you killed her.”

He shut his eyes closed tight.

“You are not bad, Regis.”

He inhaled sharply and you saw a tear had started to roll down his cheek.

“Maina please, don’t be ridiculous.”

Your hands went to the sides of his face and as your thumbs began massaging his prominent cheekbones, the tight line of Regis’ mouth started to contort, and his face pinched where the wings of his nose met his cheeks as another tear rolled down it.

“You didn’t make her stay,” Regis nodded, eyes closed, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Maina,” he whispered, face getting tighter.

“You are _good.”_

Regis slowed, and you could count each of the surgeon-barber’s breaths when his black eyes opened and met yours, “what did you say?”

“You are good.”

He sharply sucked in air as if you’d stabbed him before he closed his eyes shut tight once more. _Has no one ever told..._

“You are g-“

 _“_ Hold me, Maina,” Regis’ pleading voice exhaled the words in pieces and he clawed you to him, and him to you, cupping his shaking head as he pushed his face into your shoulder. 

“I didn’t,” Regis gasped, “mean...” he cried into your shoulder, his ability to make words handicapped. You held him; his voice was muffled in your shoulder as it came out in gasps. His body heaved, “...Sergas but I swear I didn’t do it...” Regis held you tighter to him as his voice became a wail and he cried to you. He started speaking words into your shoulder that were only half formed, and some words that had little to no meaning to you. It sounded as if he confessed how he had been feeling about himself, about the things he had thought were his own doing, about what he had been told by others and himself. You resolved to simply hold him in your arms as he did so.

Finally you laid back on the lounge and Regis laid beside you, body still flinching time from time, him still clinging to you. The night sky was still inky black where it hung all encompassing, save for the moon that peaked out behind the billowing, dark clouds.

Regis seemed to have tensed on your arm.

“I can’t stop thinking about your blood, Maina,” he confessed and you adversely pulled him closer to your body. Regis put his face in the crease of your neck and sighed. 

“I love you, you know.” His voice was filled with gratitude, and you smiled. 

“I think I do know,” you replied.

You felt his chest push up against your side as a last _sniff_ came out of him.

He chuckled into your neck as his arm wrapped around you. He felt lighter, “have any past trauma or major deaths you’d care to divulge?” You felt his warm breath under your jaw before he kissed it, and added, “Perhaps a few physical manifestations of emotional distress with dreadful and depressing origins you’d like to share?”

A smile broke across your face as his facial hair and breath tickled you, and you held his head closer to your body. 

“I might take you up on that, sometime.”

“Please do,” his voice became surprisingly straightforward as he said it.

“But you don’t need to make up for what just happened. You don’t owe me anything.”

You heard his mouth working, opening and closing as if he wanted to say something, but didn’t.

“Regis,” you whispered, and he purred. 

Then something sharp grazed your neck and you stiffened, heart beating faster in your chest.

“I won’t,” Regis whispered. You felt his large hands go to your waist and he removed his head from the crease of your neck to appraise your expression while he spoke to you. “I can just smell you so very clearly, now.” 

You noticed your legs splayed about the lounge and crossed them, “uh-hum, pardon?”

Blushing, you peered back up at the surgeon-barber, inches from your face.

He was staring at you.

He was staring at you in one hell of a way.

It was kind of terrifying, it was on the very _cusp_ of terrifying.

But if you could have the way Regis stared at you painted and given to you a year ago, it probably would have made your lonely time in Corvo Bianco’s loft go by a little quicker. You twitched, and Regis’ nostrils flared slightly at your reaction. His face was closer than he was a second ago, and he was breathing quite deeply. 

“Mi sisi vo thi,” _I long to drink you,’_ Regis stated unblinking, his long fingers starting to play with your hair. You felt your own heartbeat quicken further, “sato ap ki curo-are.” _for you to nourish me as I care for you. Protect you from others.’_

You followed his eyes as they moved across your chest, your neck and your shoulders before he took his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Then he closed his eyes _shut,_ and his arms slithered around you completely and you let him. He rested his head on your shoulder. “Istes mi lektvum, cavta.” 

_‘You are my favorite, dear.’_

As your fingers found Regis’ hair, moisture started to build in your eyes and you swallowed. “Lektvum?” 

_‘Favorite?’_

Regis held you tighter, “mi mvkalas.” 

‘ _You make me gentle.’_

“I like that,” you replied in earnest. “I like that a lot.”

You felt a tingling sensation in your body and you realized you wanted him to bite you. Your insides very nearly quaked in excitement, and you audibly gasped at the thought of Regis sinking his fangs in you. You heard him inhale, smelling your excitement and you swallowed. 

“Oh _my,”_ he whispered, “does someone want me to do it?”

He really shouldn’t. You shook your head. 

“Regis, you can’t,” you told him firmly and he nodded once in disgruntled agreement before going back to smelling both your neck and your arousal - which wasn’t stopping - driving himself mad. Then you remembered, “What was Yennefer talking to you about regeneration?”

Regis stilled, his nose on your jugular and his breath hot on your neck when he replied, “I’d rather not consider her speculations.” 

You frowned, “what were her speculations?”

His breathing was becoming more intense and his fangs grazed your neck again, making you freeze where you lay as he whispered, “there’s only one real way to prove the theory.”

A wet tongue slid on your jawline and your eyes rolled. 

You shook your head. 

“Regis,” you grabbed him as best you could given the angle and he stopped immediately. You appreciated that. “I’m trying to focus.”

“Me too, dear.”

His face was deadpan and you squinted at him in response. The way his lips worked at the corners told you he was trying to get a rise out of you. He always _did_ think it was funny when you were a little annoyed. You didn’t think now was the time for games, but the playfulness in his eyes at seeing you get heated was giving you second thoughts on the matter. 

“You could become addicted again and spiral out of control,” you felt your face frown as the gravity of your words solidified, and you looked down at your body. “What would our child do without their dad?”

Regis eyes and chest widened as he pulled you towards him and held you forcefully. “I’m sorry.” He breathed in your ear, “I’m sorry, Maina. You’re right.”

You felt your own chest push up against him and Regis’ sweet, herbal scent made you feel better. “I’m tired.”

He nodded, his chest still moving. 

“Do you really believe I’ll be an adequate father?”

“Can you take off your vest?”

“What?” Regis brows pulled down, and he broke the embrace to remove his vest. 

“And your shirt.”

“You’re kidding,” Regis’ asked deadpan, eyes rolling, but he unbuttoned his long dress shirt to reveal his handsome chest and abdomen beneath it. He folded his shirt to the side and cocked his head at you, giving you an expecting expression. “Hm?” He clarified, flourishing bis hands over him as if it were some big reveal.

You nodded, on the verge of giggling as he laid back down next to you and re-wrapped you in his arms. _Shit_. You wanted to be covered.

“Maybe the blanket,” you suggested, stretching tiredly. 

You thought you heard a chortle and looked at him to see that Regis was fighting a smile as he retrieved his arm from you. He went and grabbed the blanket, and on the way back, said, “This is the very last request I shall fulfill, Maina. You are pregnant and need to sleep.” 

“Interesting words coming from Mr. Let Me Suck Your Blood Despite the Dangers,” you laughed as he covered you with the blanket, his scent overwhelming you as he tucked you in on the far side before sliding under it beside you. Regis laid your head on his chest.

“I would have assessed the situation completely and ultimately decided against it.” He explained quickly and that made _your_ eyes roll. You chuckled at him, and he squeezed you tighter. 

You were starting to fall asleep when you nodded against his chest, “Oh Regis,” you wrapped your hands around his middle, 

“Yes, dear?”

“I think you are going to be just,” you yawned, and felt his hand cup the back of your head as if yawning were a precious gesture that needed protecting. You rested your head against the smooth, warm skin of his chest. “Just an amazing father. I believe in you.” 

He snorted, and you felt his mouth form a smile against the top of your head, “Yes. Yes, I know you do.”


	52. Ara Carbaras...'N Such

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maina and Dettlaff finish Regis' Florilegium sketches, Yennefer figures out who Regis' Acern Ara has been this entire time, and Regis tries and fails to teach Maina and Dettlaff how to cook Coquilles St. Jacques before they all pile up (literally) in bed. 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!!! Stay safe out there!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: visuals of two humans (lmao) having consensual sex, depictions of consensual sex/threesome (F/M, M/M/F), freaking babies, blood sucking, getting high from blood sucking, slight jealousy, some language. 
> 
> Haven't been on here today so I'll get back to any of ye comments!! <33
> 
> Next week I'll be WORKING IN A FIELD LIKE A GOOD FARMER (not actual farmer rn) so this might slow down a bit next work week (WAAAHHH - but really 'wah' hahaa).
> 
> Alright, I'm done!

You’d woken in his arms. It was about all you could think about right now, as you finished drawing the rest of the chrysanthemum for Regis’ journal. Dettlaff was sitting behind you, Dacreval playing between your back and Dettlaff’s chest on his lap. His energy was rising and falling in a contented, relaxed manner and somehow gave more peace to the already serene, sunny study.

Yes, of _course_ you could think of Dettlaff and always did. Yes you absolutely _always_ had Dacreval on your mind. Even when you were certain you _didn’t_ have them on your mind - that you were completely focused on something else _-_ you were still thinking about them. Thinking about both of them. They were both just a part of you in such an integral way that they never escaped you. You knew the two experienced the same phenomena towards you, too. 

Regis, however, didn’t get that _always on, in, or about your mind every moment of the day like you could feel him there in your bones,_ treatment. He just never had. You loved him very much, but it had just never been present. 

Which is why you were surprised that all you could think about was having woken up in his arms. Not because the sun had still been rising and you had been wide awake, and upon feeling him next to you, forgot all ambitions of productivity. Not because he had adjusted himself in the night, and you were surprised to find him on your chest and shoulder, looking down at him in his peaceful state. Not because of his soft breathing on your neck, the slope of his nose, the way he felt wrapped around you, or that his scent had all made you coo before you had even opened your eyes. Not because of the way he would twitch then hold you closer, or his soft sighs and nudges. You weren’t surprised that you couldn’t stop thinking of those things. What surprised you was _how_ you couldn’t stop thinking about them. It felt a lot like moving day, somehow. It felt like Regis was _moving in_ to being a part of you.

You shook your head as you finished the chrysanthemum and began a strain of wolfsbane, thinking about how absorbed you’d been in watching your older vampire as he slept when Yennefer had walked in. The look on her face was surprisingly unforgiving when she gasped something about irresponsibility and...well, the two of you got off the fainting couch shortly thereafter. Regis asked for a moment alone with Yennefer and you hadn’t seen either of them since. It made you want to pretend you were back in a state of exhaustion from imploding slivers of space and time to have eavesdropped on them again.

 _Imploding bits of space and time...sheesh._ That made your _brain_ want to _implode_.

Yennefer had said the exhaustion from it was probably avoidable with time, and that she was incredibly surprised that you’d been capable of doing that and even more surprised that you were _alive._ _Geralt_ had relayed this to you, just before leaving the study and giving you, Dettlaff, and Dacreval time to yourselves. You’d spent two nights exhausted, the first night you had no recollection of whatsoever, but Dettlaff told you Dacreval was nothing but nibbles and squeaks of worry to the point that he had to sleep with him elsewhere and have Regis watch over you next… and that broke your heart.

  
  


_Finished._ You looked at your completed sketch and smiled. It was the last of the lot for the florilegium. _Florilegium._ You spun around between your dark haired mate’s long, outstretched legs to face him and Dacreval. 

“Here,” you handed him the last sketches and he turned his icy blue eyes from Val to yours, joyful and piercing. His chest puffed out a little. 

He was proud of you for finishing what you’d started, you thought. The skin of your cheeks heated in a blush, looking at your son as you felt Dettlaff’s long fingers go to caress where the heat of your face bloomed. “Lavs, Maina,” his deep voice praised you in vampiric and you spared a quick glance to see him looking at you as if you’d created all the life in the world. 

He’d been looking at you like that since...well he always kind of looked at you like that but now it was even _more_ intense. “Sonoi,” you thanked him. 

You lowered your head to where Dacre sat next to you on the marble and kissed your son on the nose. He looked up at you with the most glee filled expression you think you’d ever seen...well, he and his dad gave each other runs for their money. “Mi une am,” you said to him, enunciating each syllable. You knew it was important to Dettlaff that he speak a little vampiric. Or a lot of vampiric.

“It is complete,” Dettlaff said, placing the Florilegium down and adjusting himself to lay so that he was perched on his side, weight on his elbow and his face near your own. His deep voice was calming as he leaned to Val, too, and spoke to him the vampiric word for mother, “Matrouv _.”_

Smiling, Dettlaff leaned his face into you and kissed you. 

“I think we both know he’s too young to start speaking,” you sighed, and noticed Dettlaff was looking at you in amusement. “What?”

“He’s not _human,_ Maina,” he did that grinning sneer and nodded to the green leather book on the floor labeled _Nosferats_. 

“Yes but he’s obviously not _just a Nosferat,_ Dettlaff,” you started, “he can enter and exit Krael’ef, so he can regenerate like a higher vampire, and he can be in the sun,” you looked down at Dacreval and picked him up to you, kissing him on the head, “like his mom.”

Dettlaff gave you an incredulous look, motioning to himself, “and his _dad.”_

“You melt in the sun,” you said, rubbing your nose to Val’s tiny one, making him giggle, “you big ole bat.”

Rich, low and rumbling laughter filled the air as Dettlaff wrapped his long, vampiric arm around you so that he was leaning against you where he lay. He smoothed Val’s unruly red tufts of hair. “We can still try to teach him how to speak.”

You looked down at the mass of handsome black hair resting against you and rolled your eyes. _Fine._

“Baba,” you said to Val’s little giggles and kissed Dettlaff on the top of the head, who looked up at you. 

“Noropa filos efia _baba_ , mi ara…” He smirked, and your eyes widened. 

_It’s obvious our son will say father first, my treasure._

“Yeva!” You gave him a little shove and he laughed, “evth _cosos_?” 

_Yeah right! And why’s that?_

Dettlaff grinned, pinching Dacreval’s sunlit little cheeks before bringing him in closer and holding one of his little hands in his own. Two vastly different sized palms with too long fingers. Dettlaff’s eyes twinkled as he looked up again to kiss you, then held your eyes with his own piercing light blue ones. 

“Salpi vamerias...filos amas. Efia baba tiv matrouv,” He chimed.

_It was very much a joke...our son loves you. He’ll say father or mother first._

Then his eyes got wide and he rolled them, “tviko _‘tosi’_ nai…”

_....just not ‘uncle.'_

You laughed, then realized that selfishly, you felt the same way. “Lexaie.”

_Agreed._

Looking down, you ran your hand through Dettlaff’s hair and tucked an errant curl back behind his ear, watching him close his eyes. You let your gaze travel across Dettlaff’s sharp, masculine features - his cutting cheekbones, his handsome jawline. Then you looked to Dacreval and laughed. 

His little face was scrunching up grumpily. He was definitely getting hungry. You picked your son up by his little armpits and lifted your soft linen shirt, and Dettlaff let out a low, sensual growl. 

“Dettlaff!” you looked at him and simultaneously winced at Dacreval’s growing number of fangs as he latched onto your nipple. Your larger mate’s eyelashes fluttered slightly as he inhaled your scent. 

“Ves caras-are noro filos veki, Maina,” _Seeing you care for our son excites me, Maina,_ ’ he sat up and brought you and Dacreval onto his lap, then started to nuzzle you, “...is that bad?”

You blushed, and he growled again, then cleared his throat and took a deep breath when Dacreval hiccuped. His large hand went to Val’s back and patted it lightly, then pulled you in so that your head rested on his chest and he whispered to you, “you are incredible, my Maina.”

Your heart swelled and you nodded, eyes lowering.

Then you noticed something.

On the marble floor was an ornate, cherrywood rattle that you hadn’t seen before. Different species of flowers were carved and painted on it, as well as the initials D.M.D on the handle. You cocked your head and looked closer. _Dettlaff, Maina, Dacreval,_ you thought and blinked, feeling tears in your eyes and could tell your brows were pushing together. “Dettlaff…” you trailed off, and felt his large muzzle on the top of your head as he kissed you. 

“I think,” he breathed with restraint, his energy still excited, “that it is time for you to eat.”

That was not what you had been expecting him to say. 

-

The two of you tucked the Florilegium in the dresser and decided that you’d surprise Regis with it later tonight, if all went according to plan and he was still willing to show you how to make Coquilles St. Jacques after all that had transpired. You both were a little weary about being taught how to cook by Regis, thinking that you probably wouldn’t do a great job. Dettlaff seemed to hope the older vampire would somehow _forget_ his ambitions and just cook it himself...

It was weird, you thought to yourself as Dettlaff carried you and Dacreval down to the kitchen through the use of the balcony instead of the indoor staircase. On this bright, sunny, and beautiful Toussaint day that after recent events you wanted things to go back to relative normal more than anything else...or if not, to just accept that this _was_ normal now and to live all of your best lives. You felt rough stubble on your cheek.

“Do you have scent glands?” you asked Dettlaff, surprising yourself. You felt Val’s fangs release your nipple and you started burping him. 

Dettlaff held you tighter, and you saw his face coloring, slightly, as he reached the ground floor and turned to walk you past the bungalows towards the kitchen. Finally he replied, “it is instinctual.”

You could feel your face tighten in glee and you chuckled, “oh my god!”

Dettlaff bit his grinning lip, side eyeing you dangerously, “it warns my lesser cousins.”

You swallowed, feeling your chest rise and fall in excitement. _Damn._

-

Dettlaff let you fix yourself the oddest sandwich you’d ever made, with an array of cured meats, pickles, a pear, sardines… there was a lot to it and it tasted delicious. He’d obviously found it amusing from where he sat with Dacreval. You were just finishing putting everything away afterwards, thinking about how happy you were Dacreval could regenerate in Krael’ef, when you saw Dettlaff’s eyes travel to the living room a split second before the back door opened in it. 

Regis walked through the living room into the kitchen, saw you, inhaled and turned around to leave with his jaw thoroughly clenched when Yennefer came storming in after him and he backpedaled into the counter. His chest heaved in a sigh and he cupped his face in his large hand as Yen strolled in, perching herself atop the wood table near the wall of windows looking out to the sunny garden.

“Regis?” you and Dettlaff asked in unison, he just shook his head, free hand tightening around the strap of his satchel. 

“Do you _ever_ consider others in your probing, Yennefer?” he asked, face in his palm. A breeze from an open pane rustled Yen’s hair and she ran a hand through it fluidly. 

“ _Would_ you stop pitying yourself?” she said it more than asked, crossing her legs. 

“What’s going on?” you heard Dettlaff’s voice mimic your own, again.

“I’m trying to give Regis good news but he is being characteristically _flighty._ ” 

The older vampire spoke into his hand, “Hardly. I’d simply rather not discuss my former life any further.”

“That doesn’t sound like good news,” you said blankly to Yennefer, “it sounds like he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Dettlaff’s jaw worked in different directions before he asked hesitantly, “What is this _good news?”_

“Regis’ Acern Ara wasn’t necessarily _Amilie_ ,” Yennefer stated, cocking her head and looking incredibly smug. 

“What on earth are you talking about now, Yennefer?” he asked, exasperated, but he sounded more or less in denial. You exchanged angrily confused looks with Dettlaff and wanted to put yourself between Yennefer and Regis, even if you knew that didn’t make sense. You could feel that Dettlaff felt the same.

“You said she can feel your energy in Krael’ef, yes?” Yennefer asked Regis, nodding to you. “Have you not put this together? Earnestly!” She threw up her hands at the older vampire, who shook his head once, disbelieving in a sort of scary daze. He looked tense, and his chest had started moving up and down quickly when his eyes traveled to you and you looked away in chills.

Your heart started beating faster. 

“Then who was?” you asked. “His Acern Ar-”

“The Fifth _is_.” Yennefer said. 

You could hear your heartbeat in your ear. 

“The Fifth?” you asked.

Was your saliva thick? Your mouth felt slow.

She nodded her head ‘yes’. 

“The Fifth Door?” you clarified.

Your eyes flickered to Regis then away quickly. 

Yen rolled her eyes and you looked towards Dettlaff, who looked like he wanted to smile, but was afraid to let himself. Your eyes felt dry from being so wide.

“The dead one?” you asked.

“Are you _dead,_ Maina?” Yennefer asked, “Because currently, you _are_ the Fifth Door.”

Your heartbeat was pounding. 

“Is Regis fully recovered?” Dettlaff looked at his blood brother, then frowned slightly.

“He will always have traces of you, Dettlaff,” Yennefer informed him, “Thank you for your sacrifi-”

“Yeah but they’re like just,” you cut in, beside yourself- swallowing, now avoiding looking at Regis altogether who was obviously staring at you from your peripherals, “...just _in me_ , you know?” 

“ _Maina_...” You faintly heard Regis voice calling to you from the other counter.

‘... _the more I feel like myself, the more I fall in love with you...’_ You recalled Regis' words from the first night in Krael'ef.

“I’m just saying I’m still mostly me, right? “ you interrupted your own racing thoughts, you had tunnel vision to nothing. _I’m Regis’ Acern Ara?_

“You’re completely you,” Yennefer answered sounding amused, “But the Fifth door is part of who you are. _All_ of the Fifth door is a part of you, in you - not bits and pieces of them. All of them. You _are_ them, Maina. Intertwined, as the Fifth does. For chrissakes they aren’t sectioned off in a corner of your being - they’ve been you, growing _with_ you since your birth. It’s how the Fifth reincarnates. There’s no territorial line or some ridiculous man made marker where _they_ end and _you_...” 

Yennefer was still pontificating on top of the kitchen table when you felt yourself being grabbed by the forearm and spun into an embrace. Regis’ hands cupped your head as his mouth gently found yours, he was making _noises._ Sighs of urgency and need. You felt your insides ignite at the sound of them before he picked you up and you were gone. 

-

You came to in the vacant servant’s quarters with a gasp and felt your body materialize against Regis’ chest, your legs wrapped around his middle, his hands and fingers gently caressing your body as he kissed you. 

“Regis,” you sighed between his lips. The sound of it made you feel like you were high, and your eyes rolled then closed. 

Regis’ chest pushed up against yours slightly and you noticed that it was bare, that yours was bare. He was in the middle of ridding you of your pants and you pushed them down the rest of the way off and he frantically did the same with his own. Two vampiric hands were on your waist, and as you closed your eyes again, felt yourself being lifted up, Regis sighing soft sounds of excitement into you as he kissed you. “Maina,” His voice was soft and shaking, his tongue moving in, and out, and around yours before it grazed your bottom lip and he bit it, gently, him pushing up against your groin and you sucked in air excitedly when it stimulated your clitoris. You were being softly laid down on the small twin bed, an arm wrapping underneath your torso, the other beneath your head. 

He looked nearly pained. A happy pain. Or merely, maybe, you thought, that was the look of getting something you’ve been wanting for a long, long, time. A something you would be too afraid to imagine having. You felt the side of his jagged face, with your hand - palming his cheekbone then cupping his jaw, and his expression softened, his eyes broke from yours in closing before he went to kiss you again, but stopped at your neck.

“May I?” Regis voice was on the tender cusp of a whisper when he pulled his head up and looked down at you. His eyes were so dark. They were wrapped in wonder, and as you watched them search yours you felt the fatty head of cock nestle itself between your lips - and you sucked in breath, watching those eyes get wide as he did the same. 

“Please, love,” you whispered and Regis’ closed his eyes shut tight as you spoke to him, his chest expanded and your insides tensed in anticipation. His brows knit further and your thumb found the lower of his lips where they parted, circling it, before it grazed his fangs and you let it break skin. 

Regis’ nostrils flared as his eyes opened and searched yours, until they watched your bleeding thumb move to the side of your neck in awe and excitement. He lowered his face to your neck, and you twitched, feeling his head at your entrance. Regis’ voice was shaking when he asked, “are you absolutely certain you want this, Maina?”

“Of course,” you whispered in his ear, and felt him shiver. You felt Regis graze your neck with his fangs, his breath unsteady.

Then he bit.

“Ah,” he sucked air in and out quickly and held you tighter, trying to steady his breathing as you felt his upper fangs break skin and sink further around your jugular. You stroked his head as his bottom fangs broke through and he bucked into you from excitement, “Regis,” you gasped in pleasure and he moaned into your neck, his tongue caressing it as he sucked on it. Your eyes rolled with his hips as his hands moved your waist up and down the length of him, moaning into you as he drank from you. One of his hands went to your clitoris and you gasped, “You like this, Regis?” and he huffed into your neck, you felt something wet drip down your shoulder and his cock filled you again. _“Fuck,”_ you gasped, his hand drawing circles on you quicker, his fangs making you wince and causing you to squeeze yourself around his long, hard cock as he thrust into you. The dragging of his head against your insides was driving you crazy and his hand was starting to make you come. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held his neck in your hands as he bucked again, “Regis,” you started to scream, and kept screaming it as you came, only half noticing the way the vampire, still latched onto your neck was becoming crazed in his movements until he finally stilled and held you to him, protectively, territorially and came.

His slick, sweat covered chest was pushing up against you and yours his. 

“Regis,” you whispered as he unlatched his fangs from your flesh, tenderly licking your wounds in a manner similar to Dettlaff. 

“Yes, Maina?” Regis’ voice was calm and pleasing to your ears, his hands gently moving to your neck and caressing you on either side, his face still nudging against it. 

A wave of panic was beginning to overwhelm you, though, and your thoughts were spiraling, “Regis what if this was a mistake,” you started, something tightening beneath your sternum, “What if I’m not your Acern Ara and you’re going to beco-”

 _“Shhh, everything is perfect, Maina,”_ Regis cooed, massaging your shoulders with his hands, “That was not the taste of regular blood.” 

He quaked around you, and you heard him swallow. 

“That was the taste of…” he inhaled sharply in separate gasps, and delicately brought you in closer. He was shaking, and you held his neck and head in your hands. He swallowed, and Regis brought his head back and looked longingly, lovingly about your face as he caressed the side of your cheek, “Isto fetra ap mi Acern Ara.” 

_I’m rearing young with my Acern Ara._

His eyes widened slightly as he spoke the words. His brows pinched up in the middle and the side of his mouth curled. 

“Svi istes, Regis,” you smiled at him.

_Yes you are, Regis._

He closed his eyes to the sound of his name.

-

The air was getting just slightly cool and the sun was on the cusp of setting when the two of you walked down the stairs, out of the building above the far bungalows- which is _apparently_ where the empty servants quarters were- and into the shadow it now lazily cast across a quarter of the courtyard. You were just stepping, hand in hand, onto the path between the fountains when a billow of red and black smoke flew down from the ether next to Regis beside you.

You looked up and saw Dettlaff’s massive body materialize in front of him.

He looked _beyond_ angry as he gazed down at the older vampire.

But a grin was beginning to form on your face…

His energy was giving him away. 

Dettlaff’s eyes darted to you a moment before you were soaking wet and heard him laughing, then Regis laughing, then nothing. You wiped the water from your eyes and opened them to see that Dettlaff was holding Regis across his lap, kissing him. Massaging his large jaw with his thumb and you swallowed and started laughing more, before you got up and tackled them both further into the water. You wiped your eyes once more and saw a gleeful Dettlaff floating lazily on the surface and walked over to him. 

“You seem to be in a good mood,” you observed stupidly, and your large mate closed his eyes and nodded. 

“I am in a _very good mood_ , my Maina,” he opened his eyes, “I love you,” he began, and you felt yourself being jerked forward by the hand and landed on top of him as he lowly rumbled into your ear, “so much.” 

Regis pulled you up and was holding you up and around his waist, and you looked him up and down where he held you, surprised. 

The older vampire rolled his eyes, _massively_ , “Did someone believe that Dettlaff is the only vampire capable of _holding others as if they were children?”_

His nose was playing with your jaw again, and his hand went to Dettlaff’s, helping hoist him out of the water though it wasn’t at all necessary. 

“It’s rather fortunate I didn’t have any of Yennefer’s formulas on my person just then,” Regis began as the three of you made your way to the house along the edge of the balcony, “it would have been quite unfortunate to ruin her efforts…”

Dettlaff stole your attention from the now red-orange hills when he rolled his eyes at Regis and _winked_ at you. A giggle was forming in your chest and shook your head ‘no’ at Dettlaff to not push you.

  
  


A small bat collided with your face, “Dacre!”

His wings flapped disjointedly around you before he landed on your shoulder, trilling. 

“What are you doing here?” you began asking him in a loving voice when your eyes caught Geralt stepping out of the house, dragging two large bags towards the three of you.

“What’s up, Geralt?” you asked as Yennefer followed out behind him. The witcher stopped and threw the two sacks over his shoulder.

“Didn’t tell me there were _servants_ quarters,” he shook his head looking at you as if you were dumb, “If I’m gonna stay every once in a while to watch Val I’d rather not do it in your _house_ …” 

Geralt widened his eyes as he walked by, mouthing _‘vampire lover’_ at you when he was out of Dettlaff and Regis’ line of sight. You shook your head, squinting at him over Regis’ shoulder. 

“Nipo!” Geralt called and Dacre flew off your shoulder. Your expression became one of absolute scandal. 

“Hey!” you shouted at the witcher. Dettlaff put a hand to your forearm.

“I asked the witcher to watch him,” his low voice rumbled where he pitched his head in towards you. You nodded, and he nodded, then you both smirked. 

“Did I not tell you?” Yennefer called your attention back to her with her smug voice, and she wore an equally smug expression on her face. She stopped the three of you before the door and Dettlaff’s energy seized momentarily, “I’m very happy for the three of you.”

You openly laughed at how sarcastic it sounded and heard the faintest snort from Regis about it as well. 

“We’ll have to start training," Yennefer continued, "I have a quick matter to tend to but I shall return next week. We can begin _then_.” 

“Return?” you asked, confused, and felt Regis arm around your ass and thighs tighten, “won’t we just meet in Krael’ef?”

Yen let out a short laugh, “You obliterated part of it, Maina.” She flipped her hair and started walking towards the gate, elegantly, “I _believe_ that warrants the beginning of phase two.”

She spoke the last words over her shoulder, her heels clicking against the marble. “What’s phase two again?” you called after her. Her returning answer was sing songy.

“The one where you stand in the doorway and _don’t die.”_

You stared after her, wondering where she was going that she wouldn’t just use a portal. Then you looked down at Regis who was staring at you with his eyebrows up and the corners of his mouth down, impressed. “Is our Maina about to become intimidating, Dettlaff?”

“Oh shut up.”

-

After changing into dry breeches and another dry, soft linen shirt you scampered down the wide, dark wooden stairs and rejoined Regis who was in the kitchen. The windows were open and the faint smells of the garden were wafting in on the evening air. You jumped up on the basically-one-large-cutting-board of an island, using it as a chair, and let your legs dangle. The last traces of the sunset trickled in through the line of windows overlooking the courtyard and turned the wood table near it, as well as the counter tops at the back wall where Regis stood at the sink rinsing his hands, a deep orange. The rest of the kitchen flickering in candles. You could smell seafood and your heart leapt. 

Regis was going to make the scallops. 

Dettlaff waltzed in lazily shaking ember tongs and rested his butt against the counter across from you. Looking over your right shoulder at Regis, you tried not to sigh. _Is he going to teach us how to do this?_ Dettlaff crossed his arms and looked at you, exasperated, _just_ as Regis broke out into explanation. 

“The first thing one must know about cooking the perfect au gratin scallop,” Regis began, and Dettlaff’s sneer widened and he shook his head. You stifled your chortle and put your finger to your mouth. He bit his lip. “Is how to,” Regis turned around and placed mushrooms on the island, “prep the ingredients beforehand.”

The surgeon-barber nodded at the both of you and the both of you nodded back. He smiled. 

“Once the actual cooking begins, it is a all a game of _time._ How are your knife skills, Maina?” Regis asked, walking back to the sink and grabbing shallots, cheese, cream, and garlic. You looked to Dettlaff for help, who lost his composure - a toothy, fang filled sneer breaking across his face.

You swallowed, “umm…”

It seemed like Regis was in a state of _go._

“I will teach you, then.” Regis said, placing the other ingredients on the island next to you and walking between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs and making your heartbeat quicken immediately. His mouth found yours and his tongue parted your lips. You were just beginning to really get kissed when Dettlaff pulled Regis back by the jaw and looked down at him, pecking the surgeon barber once on the forehead.

“Focus, Regis,” two steely blue grey eyes flashed to you and he grinned before looking back at the older vampire “we are hungry.”

“Then release my _jaw_ and I _will,”_ he huffed and, smiling, Dettlaff did. 

Regis shook his head, blushing, and started chopping.

“You’ll need to be next to the island - not _on it_ \- to do so,” Regis said, slapping your thigh. You hopped off and stood next to him, smiling up at him, and when he looked at you, his fangs showing in mirth. Then he sucked in air. “Eh.”

His finger was bleeding where he’d sliced it. 

“Well, _well_ ,” you started, folding your arms and turning around so that your butt was on the island, “I thought you knew how to use a knife, Regis.” 

His brow furrowed, the chopping sounds of knife-through-shallot quickening, “Dear, you were distracting me,” Regis’ fangs stuck out again, smirking, “you _are_ very distracting.”

He frowned at his finger, slowing to a stop. It was bleeding quite a bit. He pursed his lip, and raised his finger to you. 

“What?” you asked, and felt Dettlaff’s energy still. 

“Regis,” your dark haired mate growled. 

“Well she’s never had vampire blood, has she?” 

Dettlaff walked over and snatched Regis’ hand and stuck his finger in his mouth, sucking on it, releasing it back into the open before returning to his spot next to the counter. 

Regis stood there with his finger in the air before shrugging and going back to chopping. He cleared his throat _afterwards,_ and you could feel a stupid grin on your face. Dettlaff was _already_ grinning at you, and waved you over. “Come here,” he rumbled. 

“I thought the two of you were going to _learn_ something,” Regis said over his shoulder as you leapt into Dettlaff’s arms and kissed his stubbled cheek. 

“Oh but we are,” Dettlaff nuzzled your neck.

“You’re not marking her again, are you?”

Dettlaff stilled, then simply went back to it, “yes, I am.”

He drew circles around your jawline with his, and you started to giggle.

Regis sighed, chuckling to himself. 

“I suppose it will turn out better if I do it myself anyway,” he balanced the shallots on his chef’s knife and tossed them into the saucepan fluidly before beginning on the mushrooms, “though I would like to show you both some basics, sometime…”

“Maybe we should start with a simple breakfast?” you suggested, but Regis’ voice had dropped to a whisper, and Dettlaff stopped nuzzling you so you could both try to hear what he was saying… It sounded something like ‘ _don’t know why I thought the two of you would behave…’._ Dettlaff put a hand over your mouth for a moment before cupping the back of your head and kissing you. 

“Dettlaff,” Regis started, and Dettlaff’s brows pulled down from the tone, “you’ve never had a human drink your blood? Or a partner?”

Dettlaff’s eyes flashed to you before he growled at the older vampire. 

You felt your own blush on your face, not really wanting to picture Dettlaff and his former partners and being embarrassed about the fact that you didn’t. Dettlaff held you tighter before saying through a clenched jaw, “ _Re_ gis.”

“What?” the older vampire turned around and saw that you were blushing in your own stupid jealousy, “Oh! I’m sorry, Maina.” 

You laughed nervously, and could feel Dettlaff’s heartbeat on your shoulder where he held you to him. 

“It’s fine,” you chuckled unconvincingly, “you’re both old as dirt, I know you’ve had partners before.” 

You rolled your eyes, but knew how hot your face still felt, and when you swallowed you wanted to die because of how fucking _audible it had to be,_ so you added, “it’s not like I haven’t had partners myself...it’s not a big deal.”

Regis’ nostrils flared and Dettlaff’s body stiffened under you simultaneously. Then the older vampire crossed his arms and leaned up against the counter. 

“Like the sorceress?” Dettlaff asked stonily and obviously attempting to not look lethal- his energy rumbling under the surface. Regis’ eyes got huge and he looked between the two of you.

“Dear _god,_ Yennefer?” he asked. 

You shook your head in your defense, “Not just her, okay...Men too.”

Regis’ whole head jut out over his crossed arms.

“ _Human_ men?” He scoffed, throwing his chin back.

“What are their names?” Dettlaff asked casually, his body completely tight.

Regis’ nostrils were flaring, “so crass and utterly inexperienced.”

“Where do they live?” Dettlaff’s mandible was flexed to the point of bursting as he inquired, still trying to sound natural through clenched teeth. 

Regis mouth opened and his jaw popped tautly to one side trying to hide his amusement, “What did they look like?”

“Oh,” you looked between the two of them “my,” your mouth fell open “god.“ You started laughing, “No. No, you’re not going to kill or hurt them.”

You were beginning to laugh uncontrollably.

They both smiled fanged smiles and it made you swallow. You shook your head and repeated, “You’re _not_ going to kill them.”

“Does it always feel like this?” Regis asked Dettlaff.

Dettlaff’s body was beginning to relax as you rested your head on his chest and he breathed, “Yes.”

“It’s rather wonderful,” Regis observed, his chin between his thumb and finger before he let it drop and went back to grating the cheese, “if not wildly intense.”

“It is wonderful.” Dettlaff said, kissing your cheek.

“What is?” you whispered, and two large, icy blue gray eyes met yours.

“Having you.”

You put a hand on his face and his eyes closed under your touch. 

-

After dinner the three of you went into the living room and you brought out the small, paper wrapped florilegium and handed it to Regis, who was sitting on the couch across from Dettlaff. You backed up so that you were standing just in front of your dark haired mate.

“What is this?” the older vampire asked, eyes darting between the two of you.

“Um,” you blushed, and Dettlaff gave you an encouraging look, his energy surrounding you comfortably. “You mentioned that sometimes you can’t make out your notes or drawings…”

Regis ripped the paper open and his brows knit when he saw it was his own journal. 

“...so we decided to go through and put in sketches of our own in it for you,” you finished.

The surgeon barber’s face softened completely as he opened it and saw the first drawings.

“Maina’s sketches,” Dettlaff corrected, giving you a meaningful look as he took your hand in his and squeezed it, “thought I did place them all.”

He rolled his eyes at himself and you looked at Regis. 

The older vampire was biting his lip, and his brows were knit again, and he was nodding to himself. 

“These are beautiful, Maina,” he said quietly, “I don’t know how to thank you.” 

The surgeon barber swallowed. Then he cocked his head.

“Is this a mole?” he asked. 

“It’s probably a rat-baby,” Dettlaff said offhand and you smacked him.

“What?” 

“Nothing,” you cut in, walking over and looking at the page, “yeah! Well no, it’s a vole. I put it there for fun more than anything because I think it’s cute.” 

“A cute vole,” Regis smiled, still observing the page and his hand gently went around your waist so you would sit down next to him. He held you to him. “I adore these,” it was a whisper. 

“I’m glad you like them,” you replied, a hand going through his hair behind his ear, your thumb caressing his cheekbone. 

You looked over and saw Dettlaff admiring the two of you in a happy daze. Regis bit his lip.

“You both have been rather patient with me, haven’t you?” he asked. You looked to Dettlaff, who’s nostrils were flaring. 

“We can be more patient, if you need, Regis,” he said, his gaze becoming intense as he got up and walked towards the two of you. He knelt down and pulled you in next to his side so that you were flush up against the two of them. 

Regis stiffened, and shook his head, “No, I think I think I’m fine--”. Dettlaff started kissing the side of his neck, whose face pinched from it and you felt Dettlaff’s energy excite before your vision went black and you came to in your room, being held by Regis. His large, black eyes were on you as he set you down on the bed and stood. Dettlaff was removing Regis’ pants, after having rid himself of his own and grabbed you from the bed and held you to his person, kissing you. You kissed your dark haired mate back where he sat on the floor and straddled him before he grabbed your breeches and ripped them off you. He was nearly whimpering to himself for you as Regis’ cock fell out of his pants in front of your faces. Dettlaff entered you and you both groaned - one of his large, vampiric hands held you to him, his other beginning to caress Regis’ shaft. Dettlaff’s head was rolling in you, his crossed legs a perfect seat for you. 

Hands were caressing your head as you placed the surgeon barber’s balls in your mouth and licked them, sucking, releasing them with a pop and he moaned. You felt Dettlaff’s hand start rounding circles on your clitoris as he thrust into you, and you gasped at the feeling of it and the sight of your dark haired mate as he placed the head of Regis’ cock in his mouth. He stared at you and thrust again - your eyes rolled, “fuck, Dettlaff.” Regis’ hand was playing with your jawline when a shudder from Dettlaff and a warm liquid spread within you, but he was still hard, and he picked you up and rest you backside down on the mattress, kissing you and moaning into you when he bit you and you felt high from it. Your vision blurring and head rolling, Dettlaff’s thick, long cock filling you and leaving you as his energy swirled around you like an eddy. _“Dettlaff,”_ you moaned, and he growled, before another set of hands were on you, rubbing you instead, and a different pair of teeth on the other side of your neck, and you opened your eyes to see Regis was making you high, fucking you now instead. Dettlaff stilled Regis’ hips and stepped behind him. The surgeon barber held you to him, fangs still lodged in your jugular, as Dettlaff thrust Regis’ cock in you further, causing Regis to whimper and bite down harder into you. You yapped, and Dettlaff’s eyes got wide and the sneer resurfaced on his face as he took in the sight of you. Regis was still making you feel far away with his bloodsucking, in a pleasurable daze when Dettlaff thrust again and Regis’ cock dug deeper in you. Dettlaff thrust Regis into you until it made you moan _Dettlaff’s_ name, then he started losing control. Regis’ hand was becoming erratic in its movements and he started to cum, releasing his fangs from you and focusing on massaging your clit and whimpering from Dettlaff’s final bucking as you came watching the larger vampire lose himself. Regis was still kissing your neck, licking the blood from it when you came down to his soft dick inside you, swimming in the drippings of his orgasm.

Dettlaff leaned over the two of you and held you both in his arms as tightly as he could. Eventually the two disappeared into smoke. 

Dettlaff returned momentarily with a tin of some sort in his hand and jumped into the bed beside you, grabbing you as he rolled over you, and setting you atop his stomach as he popped the tin in the drawer of the bedside table. His large hands went to your sides and he hoisted you up, smiling. 

You smiled back. You both just smiled at each other for a long time, pupil’s getting larger before you scrambled to release yourself and close the distance to kiss him, cupping his head with your hands and his hands on your waist. He kissed you deeper, and you him, until he was gyrating against you excitedly and purred in your ear, “mi une am.” 

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Just then the balcony door opened and, looking over your shoulder, watched as Regis walked in, naked, and threw up his arms, “I for one am exhausted.”

It sounded _very_ sassy. 

You turned to Dettlaff- one of his brows was pulled down as he observed you with playful eyes. His hand went to the back of your neck, kneading it, then to massaging your shoulder, then back to your neck...it was _immensely_ soothing. “How are you?” he asked in your ear as Regis shuffled through a drawer in the desk. 

“I’m perfect,” you answered, then looked at the tin, “What’s with that?”

He grinned, “they’re cookies,” he bit his lip, “you will like them, I promise.”

You knew you were giggling before it happened, and you wrapped his head in your arms and held him tightly against your breast. 

“Maina,” Regis said as he slid into bed, “how many times have you slept on top of Dettlaff?”

His tone was much too snarky to be conversationally curious, and Dettlaff’s eyes rolled before he picked you up and set you atop the surgeon barber, who immediately sighed in the most pleasant way. 

“This is much better,” he whispered in your ear, putting his hand between you on the small of your stomach and he exhaled. Dettlaff took Regis by the shoulder and slid both of you in under his arm. 

It was the most comfortable place you could have ever imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's like 5 cups of fluff in this. Also Dettlaff is the hottest ever and I can't get over it.


	53. END book 1. Art Geralt n Maina shoppin & Other 'To Blossom' aka the sequel first pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!! I'll still be updating more slowly now that it's summer and I am getting used to my work schedule!!!


	54. Sequel!

Alright, I did it! I'm committing to a Book II, lmao.  
  


I didn't really want to keep adding to this since it felt like the end of one story and the beginning of another to me with chapter "Ara Carbaras...'N Such". The chapters I posted that had followed are now the beginning of To Blossom! :) Which I cheekily named "Babes of Toussaint" cause I'm a huge dork. 

I am pretty damn excited about a sequel...I can't even tell you why, but I am j-a-c-k-e-d.

I'll still be updating _this_ lovely piece o' me heart with illustrations and drawings because there are many moments I would like to illustrate! Not sure when or where I'll get the news out about when those are added?

The sequel will be updated a little more slowly as I try to get used to my new work schedule and, y'know, it's nice outside!

Alright, y'all. Have a great day and stay hydrated! Thank you all so much! Enjoy all of the things!!! 

Mack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are really great and my tumblr is https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mackallackattack
> 
> I'm not always on and I don't always check cause I'm all over the place but feel free to hit me up!


	55. Art bathtub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here’s a removed and bettered one of Dettlaff x Maina in ze bathtub. Chronically used to make Dettlaff’s hair too long. Halfway done with a cute one of them in Fox Hollow :).
> 
> I love how you can tell Maina is just smiling, blabbing away in this.
> 
> If there are any moments you want to see happen lemme know. Can’t make em all but I can get an idea for it/take the ideas I like hahaha!
> 
> Oh yeah and if you want to check out ze sequel it is up. Should be a link to it near the tags or whatever. It’s called “To Blossom: Babes of Toussaint” (I couldn’t help it) and yes the series is called “Misfit Garden”, cause honestly. If you like vampire dads stressed by their own hormones, then I do recommend it. There will be art in it, and that’s great cause quarantine has led to discounts on art lessons lmao (*sweats guiltily*).
> 
> I’ll hopefully have that Fox Hollow piece up this week! Planting. Season. Over. After. This. Week. Hooorah.
> 
> Alright! Thanks so much, y’all! Take care of yourselves!! Lather and hydrate! F*ck vampires! Enjoy! <3

  



	56. Regis Portrait!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey! Thought I’d upload this here as well for ya!
> 
> Regis :) Several freckles and pores layers for this one, too hahaha. Ah, my life. Staring at magnified vampire pores...what can I say?
> 
> Enjoy! Hope you’re doing well!


	57. [ART] Cotton Candy - Dettlaff flies Maina & Val

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dettlaff flies Maina and Dacreval back to camp in the Land of a Thousand Fables!
> 
> Possibility that I’ll edit this because of how soft it is (see: cotton candy) but I kind of adore it and I always just move on to something else and we call kinda know that by now lol
> 
> Hope this might brighten your day, and that you have fun looking at it! :)
> 
> <33 Mack


	58. Fox Hollow [ART - No Spoilers post ch5]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y’all! Are we staying afloat right now?! I miss you scoundrels, and hope that this image of Maina falling (flat on her face/head over heels) in love in Fox Hollow will add a little smile to your day! :)
> 
> This is the scene from all the way back in chapter 5 where Dettlaff gives Maina a shading lesson!
> 
> Not sure when the next one will be up, but I’ll be able to do a few around the holidays! Are there NSFW scenes you’d like to see? Or fluffy moments? I have 5.6 billion different things in this fic I wish were illustrated so feel free to help me decide which!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to mark this as “completed” since the chapters with text are finished and the sequel itself is almost complete...I think? That being said, I’ll still be updating this thing with art. Eventually I’ll do a clean up where I’ll consolidate these new update chapters and put the art where it belongs within the story.
> 
> But today is not that day, lol.
> 
> Alright, I’m outta here! Go kiss a cute old vampire who smells of herbs, or somethin’!


	59. Market Day (Regis and Dettlaff SFW cute)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regis and Dettlaff at the Market, lol!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn’t really write today because my brain was fried in that department so I made this! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! I love these two so much ahhhh !!!!


	60. NSFW sketch maina x dettlaff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My sketch pad came in through the mail over the weekend and so far it only has inappropriate drawings of Dettlaff and Regis :)  
> Anyway I thought I’d add one here of Dettlaff and Maina because I’d been thinking about the beginning of their relationship yesterday and awwww.
> 
> PS - Dettlaff’s groin anatomy isn’t perfect but I really wanted his —— pictured lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I’ve gotten so used to digital art that I keep trying to press “undo” and pinch zoom on actual paper!


	61. Dettlaff van der Eretein Oil Painting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So...this is the best thing I’ve ever made? Art technique wise? It’s an oil painting I did Saturday. I need it to be a part of this fic because this fic is my baby! 😆😭🥰

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is a wrap on this fic!! 
> 
> If I make anything for it in the future I will certainly upload it. I’m sure that, after my brain stops telling me I need to make more, _new_ Dettlaff and Regis content that I will want to revisit these boogers. There might be a modern AU reader/second person narrative fic with these two vamps and an oc being posted by myself sometime in the next year. Otherwise I know there’s quite a bit of Dettlaff + Regis material in the works by other writers at the moment, as well as just good stuff presently out in the fandom. My friend wholelottatiffy just started posting a fic called _Wildfire_ in her 'An Odd and Dangerous Pair' series that I am stupidly excited about TuT. The series is RegisxOC and the new one has a DettlaffxOC relationship too ahhh;alsdkfj. 
> 
> Alright lmao, god why am I still talking, I kind of shipped Orianna and Damien in a chapter of the sequel and it is, uh, it makes me chortle _hard,_ so that might end up happening as a fic if I explore it. 😂
> 
> Anywho, it’s been an absolute blast and I hold all y’all to the highest regards. ❤️💕 I hope you’ve had fun reading and have been able to find a little happiness and a little escape from your day to day with this fam.

  



End file.
